


A Little Bit of Sunshine

by 100KlicksAway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Leaving!Stiles, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Pain, Pixies, Stiles-centric, a little bit dark!Stiles, canon-divergent, dubcon, fae!Stiles, jerk!Derek, lonely!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100KlicksAway/pseuds/100KlicksAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him. </p><p>Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.</p><p> WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how this happened? Anyway. Apparently I write Teen Wolf now, so first chapter. I guess I'll add tags whenever I update. For those who read this, enjoy? Ha.
> 
> Also: This is quite canon-divergent.  
> 1) Erica doesn't die, because... I kinda love her sometimes. And I don't want her dead.  
> 2) Derek and Cora don't leave... Cora doesn't really exist. Meh. The stuff with the Alpha Pack and Nemeton and stuff pretty much went down the regular way, though, other than those discrepancies.  
> 3) This kinda skips out a lot of canon from season 3? I wrote this before it ended and just... yeah. Ignore all weird discrepancies cuz CANON DIVERGENT.

 

Stiles took a moment to breathe in deeply before breathing out again noisily. He looked up at Derek, who was oh-so-conveniently holding him up against the wall by the throat and shoulder. “Is this really necessary, Sourwolf? Really?”

“Stay. Out. Of. Our. Work,” Derek growled into Stiles’ face before dropping him and climbing back out of his window.

“One day… I really am going to line my window with mountain ash. Then I won’t have cranky werewolves clambering into my room at inappropriate times of night…” Stiles grumbled before sitting back down at his computer desk. “This is entirely ridiculous.”

Stiles had been doing a load of researchlately, seeing as he wassort of the pack’s research guru and the only one who could master Google-fu. Which, he had to admit, struck him as slightly pathetic, seeing as they were all capable of using a computer _and_ he had ADHD which prevented him from focusing well anyway and they were all _werewolves_ so they could focus for as long as they wanted to, anyway. He grumbled slightly to himself as he continued to research an unknown sort of supernatural creature that they all thought might be pixies, which had been infesting Beacon Hills lately and driving everybody _absolutely crazy._

Apparently though, Stiles was the only one who could find out how to get information on getting rid of them since the bestiary didn't have information. Not that any of the pack is really talking to Allison much at the moment, anyway, considering that she was the one who'd caused so many problems including having Stiles be beaten up by Gerard and shooting Erica and Boyd full of arrows. Although Stiles was pretty sure that he might have been the only one still harboring major resentment, pretty much everybody else was more than okay with those events seeing as they'd happened over two years previously and the only reason nobody was talking too much with Allison was because she and Scott were on an off-phase. Although technically speaking, everybody was still talking to Allison except for Stiles (even Scott was talking to her, albeit awkwardly and in a very puppy-just-got-kicked-in-the-face sort of manner). Stiles might have just been holding a grudge, which according to everybody else was ridiculous. He didn't see that.

Stiles stretched and leaned back from the computer, sighing again. He knew that Derek literally just came into his window and told him to stay out of thecase because it was “dangerous”, but Derek always said stuff like that and guess who always saved everybody else’s asses? Oh yeah, the Obi-wan of Google-fu, Stiles. So he decided to completely disregard Derek (which he’ had pretty much gotten down to an art; he was actually the only of the pack who could completely ignore Derek and go against his orders. He had always kind of wondered about that, seeing as he was the only human that could do that. It might partially be because Lydia WAS bitten (even if she was immune because she was a Banshee), so maybe the interest in listening to her Alpha still came about? And he wasn’t sure about Allison, maybe it had something to do with Scott…). Anyway, the point for Stiles was that he didn't _have_ to listen to Derek, nor did he pretty much _ever_ listen to Derek. He couldn't think of a good reason for why he should have to start. Rather, he could only think of reasons why it’d be in everyone else’s best interests for him to ignore Derek’s ridiculous grr-alpha-ness (read, Jennifer).

He'd found a bunch of information that was going to save the entire pack, he totally knew it. He also knew that the moment that the pack came for him, asking for help, he’d be able to laugh in their faces and pretty much do whatever he wanted to. He just knew it. Everything would turn out perfectly and… Maybe… Just maybe… Stiles would finally be treated the way he should. He was a senior in high school, graduating in three measly months, and nobody treated him with any respect. They all acted like he was a big joke and disregarded all the times that he’d done good things for them and gotten them good information. Well, no longer. Stiles was going to show them all once and for all what it meant to ignore him. He looked up at the bathroom mirror after he spit the toothpaste out of his mouth and smiled. There was something different… Something slightly off about his reflection. He couldn’t figure out what it was until he was in bed, deep in REM sleep. By that point, though, he thought that he’d dreamt up the sharp teeth.

  



	2. An Out-of-Ordinary Experience

**********

One Week Earlier

**********

“Oh, come on, you guys are being ridiculous. There is nothing there, okay? Look, see?” Stiles groaned in an exasperated tone. Scott had been on edge all day, repeatedly stating that he could feel that something was wrong. Stiles, for one, didn’t quite understand the whole animal-instinct sort of stuff that seemed to be going on with all the wolves of the pack. They all maintained that the instincts were there and real, but Stiles couldn’t help but to be a bit skeptical (he sort of thought that it might just be some sort of wolfy magic that rivaled his own spark).

“No, Stiles, I swear, I keep seeing something! There’s like, this little shadow running across the corners of my vision. It’s nothing big, it’s just… there...” Scott said with a slightly frustrated growl. Allison hushed him instantly by putting a hand to his arm. Stiles couldn’t help but to roll his eyes and look away as the two got mushy and started mauling each other’s faces. He decided to break it up before it got too hot and heavy.

“I would tell you guys to get a room, but I’m sure that you’d take me literally.”

Scott’s response was to flip him off so Stiles sighed loudly before walking the rest of the way to his Jeep. He still was unsure as to why the entire pack had been so jumpy and twitchy for the past week or so, but it was starting to annoy him some. He really wished that they wouldn’t act so… strange. He thought about what Scott had said and it made him feel a bit unsure of himself. While he didn’t think that there were little creatures running around, he did think that it would be in his favour to at least somewhat listen to Scott. He decided to google little invisible creatures when he got home, which would probably help lay Scott’s fears to rest.

Stiles face-palmed as he remembered his entire reason for originally interrupting Scott and Allison’s discussion-turned-make-out-session: he’d been planning on asking when the next pack get-together was. After Scott finally joined Derek’s pack, Stiles had been going to pack meetings and going on runs with them and all that fun stuff. For the past few months, though, the meetings had been getting less and less frequent and he actually hadn’t been on a nice run or been to a meeting in nearly two months, which was strange. Stiles had been nearly positive that the pack was supposed to have a meeting at least twice a month, and definitely on the night of full moons. It was weird to him that he hadn’t heard of any meetings. The reason for that was probably that they were just less frequent, but Stiles couldn’t think of a reason for that. An itching darkness trickled into his consciousness and murmered that maybe the reason Stiles hadn’t been to pack meetings was because he hadn’t been invited, not because the rest of the pack wasn’t having meetings. Stiles brushed the voice aside and decided to alleviate his fears. Stiles considered turning around to talk to Scott, but decided not to interrupt the two love struck teens. He could only handle so much gag-worthy sweetness, after all.

Stiles got into his baby and pulled out of the parking lot, heading home. He decided to swing by Derek’s first, though, to ask him about the next pack meeting. Derek would tell him, and then that nasty voice in the back of Stiles’ head would be banished. He sent out a quick text to Derek mentioning that he’d be coming over before setting his phone down on the passenger seat beside him. On the empty road close to the Hale’s property line, he saw what looked like a child lying on the road and immediately stepped on the breaks. He fumbled for his cellphone and jumped out of his Jeep, running over to see if he could help physically, or just by calling 911 for an ambulance or something.

He noticed some peculiarities about the child though, he (she?) looked way too old, more like an androgynous grownup in a child’s body. Maybe it was a Little Person? The closed eyes tilted up toward the forehead on the outside and when he was standing right beside the child-adult, he noticed the long, tapered ears. He stopped immediately, struck with awe and curiosity.

“What?” he breathed quietly, fumbling with his phone before dropping it on the ground. He picked it back up and Stiles took a picture of the creature and sent out a mass text to the entire pack, including Allison (even though he wasn’t currently talking to her).

**–What the hell is this?!?**

 

He knelt beside the elfin-like creature and reached out a hand to touch it. The creature's eyes flicked open to reveal pure black and Stiles shrieked. He fell back, crawling away from the thing and its evil gaze. Its head turned towards him and it opened its mouth to reveal teeth sharp enough to rival Derek’s. A wisp of dark blackish smoke escaped the creature’s mouth, winding towards Stiles. He coughed once, twice, covered his mouth, and the creature’s eyes sparked a brilliant red before falling shut.

 

Stiles turned, more than ready to get into his Jeep and head over to Derek's. He glanced up for a last look at the creature, only to see that it was gone. There was a small pile of dirt where the creature had lain. Stiles shivered and backed away to his Jeep, slamming and locking the door after getting in. He received a text and glanced down at his phone. It was from Derek.

**-Stiles, whatever you do, don’t go near it. Don’t look at it, don’t talk to it, get away from it. Am I clear? If you ever listen to me at all, listen to me now.**

 

Great, a bossy text from Derek. Stiles rolled his eyes and ignored it, seeing as the creepy little elf creature was already gone… Ash to ashes and dust to dust and all that stuff. He continued on his merry way to Derek’s, brushing off the rather creepy incident. He figured that he’d ask Derek about it when he got there. When he finally arrived, nobody was waiting on the porch for him. “C’mon, Derek, Isaac, I know you’re here! Do I have to let myself in?”

They all knew that he couldn’t actually just let himself in anymore. Since the house had been remodeled and rebuilt, it was much more secure and safe.For some reason, every member of the pack had a key except for Stiles. Stiles figured that it was just because he was nearly always with Scott, and so Derek didn’t think that Stiles actually needed a key. Stiles rolled his eyes and banged on the door, waiting. It took about five minutes too long for Isaac to come to the door and Stiles glared at him for it.

“Where’s Derek?” he asked.

Isaac shrugged. “What do you need?”

“I want to know when the next pack meeting is. Can I talk to Derek?”

“There isn’t one planned for another few months,” Isaac said somewhat shiftily, looking over Stiles’ shoulder rather than at Stiles. Was he... lying?

“Are you... why are you lying, Isaac? I mean, I know you and I aren’t really amigos or anything, but we’re both pack. What are you keeping from me?” Stiles asked, worried.

Isaac scoffed. “Pack? You really think that _you’re pack?_ As if anyone would want you in the pack, Stiles. The only thing you’re good for is researching and getting in the way. There’s a reason nobody’s been telling you about the pack meetings. I didn’t want to lie, but Derek told us that we had to. I would’ve much rather told you the truth: nobody wants you. Now _leave.”_

Stiles stood, shell-shocked, waiting for Isaac to open the door that he’d just slammed in his face and tell him that he was lying, joking, something. He desperately didn’t want that to be the truth. Not at all… Yet it seemed to be. Everything clicked into place: all the runs that he'd missed, meetings that 'hadn't been scheduled'. They were still happening... Stiles just wasn't a part of it. That stupid, niggling thought that he’d had earlier was right. He was stupid to ignore it and now he was embarrassed that he’d made a fool out of himself. He turned around and left.

*******

Stiles didn’t bother talking to anyone for the next few days. He stayed in his room so much and talked so little that his dad actually started to get worried. Scott texted him a few times, but when Stiles looked at the messages, they all were talking about Allison- how good her hair smelled, how _pretty_ she was, how they’d gotten into another argument and had broken up _yet again_ , how he didn’t know how much she liked the flowers he sent her because she didn’t say thank you...Stiles felt like throwing his phone at a wall, but didn’t want to have to buy another one.

Erica and Lydia shot him a few texts, too, but nothing really worthwhile. The one from Erica yelled at him for being sick. He kind of smiled when he read that. At least someone was at least _somewhat_ concerned, even if her notions were a bit misguided (he’d never actually said that he was sick, but he figured that everybody had assumed he was anyway, seeing as he didn’t ever voluntarily miss school). Lydia just said not to come back until he felt better, because she didn’t need to be getting sick so close to final exams.

Derek texted him once, demanding information about the child-creature Stiles had found. Stiles replied with what it looked like, its general size, how it was weird. He didn’t say anything about the black cloud that had come out of it’s mouth, though, because he figured that that would be weird and cause Derek to be freaked out over nothing. It wasn’t worth mentioning. His feelings were hurt, though, because Derek didn’t seem to have any inclination to ask how Stiles’ felt-he only asked about the creature, not Stiles’ health (physical or otherwise)- and so he cut the conversation short relatively quickly.

On the fourth day, though, he woke up, determined. He would do what he could to prove that Isaac was lying, that he really was pack, that… well, something. He would figure out something. He would go talk to Scott...

He went to school that day only to find Scott freaking out about bloody pixies. What the hell? Apparently in the four days that he’d moped, the pack had been bothered by an explosion of the things. Apparently. Although Stiles was highly skeptical, especially since the only pixies he knew of were the blue Cornish pixies from Harry Potter. They could very well be real, seeing as werewolves were real _(honestly)._

Stiles figured he might as well cut to the chase with Derek, too, find out if what Isaac said was true or not, so he sent Derek a message.

**-Hey, did you hear what Isaac said to me the other day? About not being pack? Uhm, is that true?**

The reply came only a few minutes later.

 

**-Of course it’s not true, you idiot. Why on earth would you believe something as stupid as that? You’re obviously pack. I mean, we include you in all our activities and meetings and everything.**

**-Oh. I thought… I dunno what I thought exactly. Why’d he say it?** Stiles texted back, poking his tongue out and swiping his dry lips.

**-He was just in a pissy mood and took it out on you. Ignore him.**

 

Stiles thought that Derek’s messages were a little bit suspicious. They were kind of overkill… He very rarely texted more than a few words at a time. He figured that Derek was just in a talkative mood. It wasn’t like Derek would try to hard to reassure Stiles about anything, he wouldn’t bother putting in the effort to do something like that. Stiles smiled and shut his phone, paying attention in class instead of replying like he wanted to. That cleared things up perfectly... he was still pack, he was still wanted...

But there was still the whole pixie problem. Stiles shrugged it off, figuring that he could just research them. So that was how he spent the next few days, researching pixies and fae-kind. He sifted through borrowed books, from libraries in other towns, occult books and fairie tales. He borrowed some information from his friend Tara, who was a witch that he'd met the previous year after having some issues with a coven moving into Beacon Hills (they’d left, but only after some convincing. They still _loathed_ Derek and adored Lydia). He did everything he could to find information on pixie infestations, because he was doing if for the pack. His faith had been renewed by Derek, and he was going to be as helpful as possible so that he could prove Isaac wrong.


	3. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the edited version of this chapter, hope you enjoy it and all that good stuff. Yeah.  
> I love all you, my dear readers.  
> Follow me on tumblr if you so desire  
> 100klicksaway.tumblr.com (can't do the linky thingie, unfortunately)  
> or read one of my other stories whilst waiting for updates!

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles shuddered at the awful taste and looked around his room, seeing a strange shadow in the corner.

Pouncing on it, he was surprised when there was nothing there anymore. “Huh?”

“Apparently you act even more like a hyperactive cat when you’re tired,” Derek’s voice came from behind him with a snicker.

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles growled at him. “You have no right to talk, you act like a dog all the time. What do you want, anyway?”

“I already told you, Stiles, stay out of this business, okay? It’s not necessary for you to do any research or anything. You’re not part of this anyway, and the rest of the pack and the Argents can handle it. We already know what we’re facing. So just don’t,” Derek backed up to the window and reopened it with a strange look on his face. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” With that, Derek jumped back out of the window, leaving Stiles to think on what Derek had just said said. Stiles pondered over it for a few moments before rolling his eyes and sitting down at his computer to sift through the sites he’d found about pixies. He'd already figured out how to get rid of the pixie infestation, but apparently Derek already had that covered. Stiles scoffed; he knew that he'd be asked for help quite soon. Even if he wasn't, Stiles was sure that he could find some way to help, he always did. After a few minutes on the computer, though, his head started pounding, which was highly unusual.

Stiles had a tendency to just ignore his headaches the rare times that he did get them (usually after crying a lot or panic attacks) but this one was painful enough that he stumbled downstairs to get an aspirin. After popping the pill and drinking a glass of water, he sat on the couch, not wanting to go back up the stairs (which were spinning and seemed to be jumping up and down) at the moment. He closed his eyes for just a moment and before he knew it, he was asleep.

*********

_There was loud screaming, shrieks of anguish and fear all around him. His head ached and his heart raced. He reached forward, watching the flames dance around him. Where was he? The trees over top of him caught fire and he ran out, out, away. There was hard black tarmac beneath his feet and then a screeching and then a wave of unsurmountable pain that washed over him for an indeterminable time._

_He flipped over, screaming loudly and his mouth tasted of blood and he gagged on it and couldn’t help but to throw up and scratch at his throat with his hands which were suddenly clawed and_

He jerked to awareness, it was just a dream, a stupid dream. He let out a loud breath and relaxed on the floor. There was something hard and crunchy under the back of his head and he reached up a hand lazily to pull it away. A leaf? Why was there a leaf on his living room floor? Why was he even on the floor? He'd fallen asleep on the couch...His eyes shot open as the scent of dirt and rotting leaves hit his nose and he sat up suddenly. “Wh-what? Where am I?”

He got to his feet slowly, feeling pain shoot through his body as he moved more. He brushed the dirt off his pants and winced, his hands felt like they’d been scraped raw. Looking down, he saw that there were deep claw marks in his palms and arms and his fingernails were stained red. Horrified, he lifted a hand to his throat and felt that it was in a similar shape. He realized that he’d clawed himself and his throat to near peices (okay, exaggeration, but it _hurt!)_ in his sleep.

He tasted bile in his mouth and looked down to see a puddle of his own vomit and he gagged again. “What the hell happened to me and why can’t I remember?” he ran his hands through his hair and tugged. He was apparently fucking _sleepwalking_ and not even _realizing_ it.

Stiles decided that it would be in his best interest to call a pack member, seeing as he had no clue where he was and they would be able to sniff him out. The obvious choice was Scott, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called him.

_Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring._

The phone was picked up by the answering machine. He suddenly remembered that Scott was on a date with Allison tonight (they were getting back together again). Honestly, though, he didn’t really care. He called again only for the phone to ring only three times rather than seven. The bastard had hung up on him!

Stiles swallowed and thumbed through his contacts slowly. He wasn’t sure who to call, who would come to his rescue? He needed someone who would be able to pick up his scent, so that cut out Lydia and Danny. He really didn’t want to call Jackson or Isaac to come help him (he honestly doubted they even would), so he was going to contact Erica, Boyd, and Derek (in that order).

He’d prefer for Erica to pick him up because she liked him best. Actually, she didn’t really like him that much, but at least she tolerated his noise and she joked around with him and was nice to him. She had slammed him into a dumpster and hit him with a piece of his own car the one time, but Stiles was pretty sure that was just how she showed her love. (Now that he was thinking about it, nobody in the pack was particularly excited to be around him besides Scott. Derek was annoyed by him and threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth every other minute-although he had made that cryptic comment earlier that night-, Boyd just glared silently at him, Jackson was just a total Jackass with a capital J- aka The World’s #1 Douchebag- apparently Isaac thought he was a sarcastic asshole who wasn't even part of the pack, and Allison… well, he wasn’t fond of Allison. Well.. he kinda liked her. Sometimes. She was nice when she wasn't trying to kill people. Plus, she and Scott were probably currently boinking, and she made Scott happy. So he did like Allison, but he still held the grudge that everyone else had gotten over already).

Stiles sighed loudly and called Erica, only to have her phone go to voicemail, too. He tried Boyd’s number and the same happened. Swiftly going through all of his contacts, he was finally stuck with Jackson and Isaac (he could of course call his dad, but that would involve worrying him and just...no). “Oh, geez. Hmm, who’s the lesser of two evils?” Finally, he closed his eyes and just stabbed at the phone, not sure which one he was calling.

After the fourth ring, an annoyed voice picked up. “What do you need, Stilinski?”

“Jackson?” Stiles asked, a bit unsure if he’d prefer Jackson over Isaac.

“Who else did you think it would be, dipwad? Rihanna?” Jackson growled. “Now what do you want?”

“Uhm… could you come find me?”

“What the hell, Stilinski, how do you not remember where you are? Are you drunk?” Jackson said with a tired sigh.

“Uh, well, there were certain extenuating circumstances and anyway, I just really need someone to come find me. I have no clue where I am and I don’t feel too good… I’d just really like you to either use that sniffer nose of yours to figure out where I am or get someone else in the pack to do it.You’re the only person to pick up the phone and I just… need some help right now. Please?”

There was some muffled talking in the background before Jackson responded. “Alright, whatever. I’ll come find you, but you owe me one.” The phone clicked as Jackson hung up.

Stiles gave a noise of gratitude as he slid his phone back into his pants pocket. It was bloody cold outside and so he sat down on the ground to wait, clutching his sides gingerly. He was pretty sure that they were bruised, although he wasn’t sure how or from what. It was all he could do to simply stay awake until Jackson found him.

Jackson suddenly appeared out of nowhere, although Stiles was pretty sure that he’d fallen back asleep for a few minutes while waiting for him. “You look like shit, Stilinski. Tell me to thank the guy that did that to you.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Your face looks like shit. When’d you get that face job done? You might want to get your money back.” _Oh man, that was horrible…_

“Remember who’s giving you a ride home, Stilinski!” Jackson snarled, hands instinctively flying to his face.

“Yeah, yeah…” Stiles attempted to stand and immediately fell over again. “Sorry, I’m a bit unsteady.”

Jackson cocked an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and pulling Stiles over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “I don’t have time for this, Stiles. I was… busy… with Lydia before you called. I’d definitely prefer to get back to her as soon as possible, which I can’t do while you’re wasting my time. I don’t know what you’re on, but I advise you to not do it in the future.”

With that, Jackson went bounding off with Stiles flung over his back like a sack of potatoes. Soon enough, they were standing by Jackson’s Porsche. Jackson dropped Stiles unceremoniously and Stiles slid into the car, still trying to remain awake but failing rather miserably. Just as his eyes slid closed, Jackson spoke.

“Are you doing drugs?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would you think that?” Stiles squeaked out.

Jackson pulled his eyes away from the road to look at Stiles’ pointedly. “You were out in the middle of the woods at 9:30 at night with no recollection of how you got there, not to mention you’re still acting all shaky and strange. I won’t say anything if you are because it’s none of my opinion and it doesn’t matter to me anyway, but you’re definitely acting strange.”

“I’m not… I’m not using anything, okay? I just… I had a headache and I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing and I fell asleep after wandering around in the woods, so. I’m fine,” Stiles said, sighing and rubbing a hand over his eye.

Jackson glanced over at him again before sighing himself. “If you say so, Stilinski.” The rest of the drive to Stiles’ house was completely silent. Stiles got out of the porsche with a mumbled thanks and walked up to his front door, hoping the door was unlocked. The cruiser wasn’t in the driveway, fortunately, so his dad wouldn’t have any questions for him. All Stiles wanted to do was go back to sleep, though, so he stumbled upstairs and did exactly that.


	4. Forever Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because I can. So ha.  
> Also, I read this one fanfic on here that used his name as Vyacheslav, and I really liked that for his middle name, so yeah. Here it is. 
> 
> Also, for those of you who might be confused... I'm leaving hints as to what is happening to Stiles, but you still might not find out until the big reveal (which isn't for a while yet.)
> 
> *******************************
> 
> Also, here's the newly updated version of Chapter 4, yay!

“So…. Scott,” Stiles whispered, poking him on the arm.

“Yeah?” Scott said, happy to be distracted from class.

“Uhm, when’s the next pack meeting?”

Scott’s face fell and he looked away, biting his lip. Stiles was instantly suspicious. “Uhm, I’ll talk to you about that after school, okay? It’s kind of an iffy situation,” Scott hedged, turning back to his work. “Anyway, school and stuff. Good not to get distracted, yeah?”

This only made Stiles more suspicious; Scott hated work and loved distractions, even though he was working hard to bring his grades back up from sophomore year.

“Alright, well, how are you going to handle the pixies?” Stiles whispered.

“Shh!” Scott hissed back, furiously scribbling on his paper. Stiles sat up in his chair a bit and looked over Scott’s shoulder to see what he was writing. He was drawing tiny little circle scribbles all lined up in a row and Stiles sat back in astonishment. Scott wasn’t paying attention, he just didn’t want to talk to him. The realization blew his mind, because Scott always wanted to talk to Stiles, except for when they were fighting. Stiles was his _best friend._ There was obviously something extremely wrong, something that Scott didn’t want Stiles to be involved in. It was just like the witches all over again, where Scott wouldn’t tell Stiles anything because he didn’t want Stiles to get hurt.Stiles had found out anyway, obviously, but he had the sinking suspicion that that was exactly why Scott wasn’t talking to him.

He waited impatiently for the day to be over so that Scott could talk to him. He knew that he could talk them out of whatever sticky situation Scott trapped them in, he always did. It would certainly explain the radio silence from the rest of the pack, if they didn’t want Stiles involved either. Whatever it was, it went far beyond just the pixies. However, Scott seemed to be avoiding Stiles for the entire day rather than talking to him, which utterly confused Stiles.

He planned to corner him after school, but then he couldn’t find him. Rolling his eyes, he went to his Jeep only to see Scott talking to Derek in the corner of the parking lot. He marched his way over to them. “Okay, Scott, confession time. When’s the next pack meeting? What’s the plan with the stupid bloody pixies? I’m desperate for information and I can help you guys, so don’t pretend like I’m useless here. Derek’s here too, so he’ll tell me if you’re lying.”

Scott’s face turned pale and his eyes flitted between Derek and Stiles. “Uhm… we don’t have any planned for any time soon, and uh, we have the pixies… covered?”

“… What the _hell,_ Scott?” Stiles said, feeling the anger that was constantly under his skin nowadays begin to bubble and rise.

“Wh-what?” Scott stuttered, avoiding looking at Stiles at all.

“Why are you lying to me? Why the hell is everybody lying to me? Why won’t anyone tell me when the damn pack meeting is, or what’s going on at all?!?” Stiles crossed his arms and glared at Scott, who shrank back.

“There aren’t any planned…” Scott said weakly.

“Bullshit! You know what, screw you! When you guys want to stop being secretive assholes, come find me, but until then, leave me alone!” Stiles said, turning on his heel. Scott grabbed his arm and Stiles lashed out at him, shoving him so hard that he hit the ground. Stiles stormed off to his Jeep and drove home, refusing to think about the fact that he shouldn’t have been able to push Scott over, that it should’ve been impossible.

********

A week had passed and nobody from the pack had even so much as looked at Stiles. None of them even care, that small, vile voice in the back of his head whispered. He shook his head clear of the thoughts before looking in the mirror again. He was much paler than usual, his eyes were sunken in, his bones were jutting out. He’d lost nearly 15 pounds since he’d found that thing lying on the ground, and he wasn’t sure why. He’d been getting no sleep and he threw up every time he ate anything but meat, and cooked meat hurt his stomach. For some reason, he was craving undercooked steak and burgers. He’d been having splitting headaches and he hadn’t slept since the night before.

Stiles sighed and slung his backpack on, getting ready to go to school. Then it struck him: he didn’t need to go to school today. He had a perfect attendance, he’d been accepted into all the colleges he’d wanted to go to, there were barely two months left until he graduated, it would be okay if he skipped a day. His dad was on shift anyway, he wouldn’t know if he skipped.

Stiles nodded firmly to himself and drifted out the door without his backpack, getting into his baby and driving rather aimlessly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew in the back of his mind that his behaviour was rather odd and unlike him. At the moment, though, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just knew that he needed to get… well, somewhere.

After driving for close to 45 minutes, he stopped the car and began to wander through the woods. He felt like he was looking for something, although he still didn’t know what was going on.

Suddenly, he spotted it: there was a clearing in the woods. It was absolutely perfect. He sprinted into it and fell to his knees, scraping at the soil frantically, clawing through the dirt. Part of his mind was screaming at him to stop acting like an animal, to be normal, to be Stiles, but the rest of him was overtaken by the boy that was flinging dirt from the ground. It soon became mud and before he knew it, there was water pooling in the earth. “What?” he breathed in a moment of lucidness. “What the hell?”

The water bubbled from the earth and he realized that he’d somehow uncovered a freshwater spring. Getting to his feet, he noticed that there was a perfect circle of rocks around the clearing and that he was standing directly in the middle, the spring beneath his feet.

With that realization, he was overtaken by that animalistic feeling and began to dance around the circle, cackling wildly. He began to lose time and after a while, his vision spotted and blurred before finally fading out, dancing the whole while.

********

Stiles pulled onto his street, exhausted and covered in mud and some other things that he wasn’t quite sure what were (nor was he sure that he wanted to know). He’d been gone since about seven in the morning, and it was currently close to five. Stiles didn’t want to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure what he’d been doing for most of that time. He just remembered dancing without stopping and later waking up beneath a tree close to his jeep. He’d driven home and here he was. The cruiser was parked in the driveway and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stabilize himself before opening the car door and walking up to the house and slipping inside.

He didn’t see his dad, so he began to sneak up the stairs.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Genim Vyacheslav Stilinski?” His father’s harsh-angry-cop voice rang out.

Stiles winced and retreated down the stairs, standing before his father.

“What… what the hell happened, Stiles?” His dad said, calm façade cracking.

Stiles shrugged and didn’t meet his father’s eyes. “I just… felt like wilderness time. I dunno. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine with a shower.”

“No, Stiles, you won’t be. What’s wrong with you? You’re skin and bones and you’re covered in mud and scratches. Did someone beat you up?” His dad asked, concerned.

Stiles shook his head and his dad looked even more concerned. “Why aren’t you talking lately? What’s wrong, son? You can tell me anything, okay?” His concern turned to anger. “Are you on drugs? You’re not doing pot or cocaine or any of that shit, right? You’re such a disappointment to me sometimes, Stiles! If your mother knew how you’ve been acting, she would-”

“Leave my mother the fuck out of this! She has nothing to do with this and you have no right to bring her up! I’m not doing fucking drugs and I’m fucking fine, okay? Just leave me the fuck alone!” Stiles shouted with anger, turning on his heel and running up the stairs. He slammed the bathroom door and fell against it. _Where the hell did that come from??_

He looked in the mirror and realized that he really did look like shit, that he looked like a heroin addict. No wonder everybody kept asking him if he was on drugs... Stepping onto the scale, he inhaled sharply. He was barely 120 pounds, and he was used to thinking that his usual 147 pounds of sarcasm and wit was light. Stiles looked into the mirror and licked his lips from where a bead of blood streamed off of a small cut in his lower lip. “What’s _happening_ to me?” he asked his reflection desperately. **  
**


	5. Every Day is Like Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grah! I've been getting so many good comments on this, it's awesome. Anyway, this chapter and the next few are going to be devoted to Stiles and his strangeness and it's going to focus on why he's becoming like this, I think? Hmm. Yeah. Anyway, read and review! :D
> 
> ********************************************
> 
> And here's the updated chappie of this. Hope it makes more sense.

Stiles struggled through the next few weeks. He was trying to keep his grades up, but his apathy was beginning to swallow him. He wasn’t sleeping or eating and his energy was surrounding him in a never-ending buzz. He felt like he was about to explode and he didn’t know what to do.

He’d taken up running to get the edge off of his hyperactivity, but he wasn’t sure how that was working. He was always hungry when he was running, but the moment he stopped, his hunger dissipated and if he ate anything but undercooked meat, he’d throw up.

Stiles considered going to the hospital, but really wasn’t in the mood for Mrs. McCall to freak out and tell him he had bulimia or something (or mentioning the whole drug thing like Jackson and his dad had). Plus, he didn’t want her asking about him and Scott, whom he hadn’t talked to since their blowout in the parking lot two weeks earlier.

He just needed to focus on school for the next month and a half, then he’d be graduated and at college and away from all of the psychosomatic bullshit that he’d been continuously putting up with. Of course, everyone in the pack had been ignoring him lately. He was planning to find out when their next pack meeting was, but everybody maintained that they didn’t have any planned. He was sort of starting to wonder why he even cared anymore; they obviously didn’t care about him. Just because he’d pushed them away didn’t mean that he didn’t want them.

He still sat at the same lunch table as everyone else, but he felt like if he wasn’t even there, nobody would notice. He’d been talking so little lately that it was already like he wasn’t there, anyway.

He figured that he’d give that idea a try, he had nothing better to do. Rather than going to the cafeteria for lunch, he went to the nurse’s office, faking a killer migraine and stomach pains. The nurse gave him a Tylenol and some orange juice and his stomach was already upset enough that he barely had to make himself think about throwing up before he was pitching onto his knees in front of the toilet and gagging into it.

The nurse (who seemed to be the only one concerned about Stiles at the moment) sent him home immediately, which is what he’d been planning for.

Rather than going home, though, he got into his Jeep and drove. He drove until he couldn’t think and his head was numb and his mouth was dry and all the thoughts had exited his head. He drove until he didn’t know where he was, and by then, he did. He was in that same fucking clearing that he always ended up in, the one that seemed to make him crazy. He couldn’t help but to think that maybe it wasn’t the clearing, that maybe it was just him going insane.

Stiles got out of his Jeep and stumbled into the clearing, falling to his knees in the center with a gasp. His head really did ache now and his stomach was growling (growling! It hadn’t done that while he was still in so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like!) There was a flash of movement and that small, vile part of his brain which had been growing and wasn’t so small anymore took over again.

When Stiles came to be himself again, there was blood in his mouth and footprints all around the clearing which hadn’t been there before that he was sure he hadn’t made, but they matched his shoes perfectly. He was covered (yet again) in mud and scratches and when he looked down more closely, there were bones littering the ground.

Horrified, he backed away and tripped in the mud of the freshwater spring, which had blossomed and was slowly becoming a pool of water. He looked at his reflection in the water and screamed: his irises were entirely black rather than the amber he was accustomed to and his mouth was full of fangs. His lips were bloody from both his blood and… _something_ else’s. Stiles scrambled backwards as he sobbed. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck what the fuck!”

This was the final straw. He was going to Deaton.

***************

“Tell me, Deaton! I need to know!” Stiles begged, trying not to cry. He’d headed home and taken a shower before heading for the veterinarian’s office immediately. Stiles had been plying Deaton for information for the past ten minutes or so, but Deaton was just being the mysterious jerk that he usually was. He kept saying that Stiles needed to calm down and that he had no clue what was going on. Stiles didn’t want to calm down, though, he wanted answers. “Just fucking… say something already!”

Deaton glanced at Stiles’ eyes before stiffening. “Stiles, I need you to tell me what you did before this. What happened before you came here?”

Stiles looked at him in surprise. “Uhm… why?”

“It’s necessary if I’m to determine what’s happening to you. I’m not sure if you’re imagining any of this or not. Have you been taking any drugs, hallucinogens, perhaps?”

Stiles gaped at him. “You think… You think that I’m _imagining_ all of this??”

“Well, people have been known to have certain... hallucinations sometimes, Stiles, especially when they’ve suffered as many traumatic experiences as you have, and sometimes they make bad decisions, such as imbibing in illegal substances…” Deaton trailed off at the sight of Stiles, who was breathing heavily and glaring.

“Hallucinations? You think that these are _hallucinations_ that I’m having? You think that I’m on _drugs_? Why does _everybody_ think that I’m on goddamn _drugs_?”

Deaton backed away from Stiles, but Stiles needed to get into his face. He felt that ever-present anger curling through him and he felt the desire to rip, to tear, to _eliminate_ this meat-sack standing in his way, calling him a liar and making him feel foolish. “Stiles… you’re… Oh my-”

“Shut up! Shut up shut up _shut up_!” Stiles screamed, interrupting him. “No more, I don’t want to listen to you anymore or anyone else because you’re all wrong and all that any of you want to do is control me and exploit me and I swear I’ll fix everything and be the one that you all think I’m not!” Stiles caught his breath after the long sentence and glared at Deaton. “So shut up and stop telling me your filthy lies before I make you by _ripping your tongue out_!”  

Deaton fell flat against the wall and Stiles pushed him up against it hard, banging the vet’s head against the stone. “Leave me alone.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the veterinarian’s office. The small part of his brain that was still purely Stiles was screaming and the vile part, which had slowly taken over, harshly stifled his cries. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care. _I was weak before. Now, I’m strong. I’ll be strong. I can do it. I can take care of myself, and prove myself to everybody else._

Rather than going home, Stiles drove back to the clearing in the woods. He sat in his Jeep for a few minutes before going and sitting in the clearing, brushing some bones away from him before lying back and _finally_ going to sleep.


	6. This Is What I Wanna Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so!   
> 'nother updated chapter. I squooshed together Chapter 6 and 7 and cut out the bit about the bwca (don't worry, it's still there. I'm just inserting it elsewhere) and yeah. Hopefully this is all good.   
> I'm so thrilled, I used to get like, 10 hits a week and now I've gotten nearly 200 hits in the past hour. I feel like a friggin' champion :D   
> Kay, love you all, I'll keep updating cos I'm on a mega streak atm.   
> Follow me on my tumblr at 100klicksaway.tumblr.com (I reblog a shit ton of TW stuff)   
> and yeah. Love and cuddles.

Stiles awoke to the feel of a cool hand pressed to his cheek. His eyes flicked open and he was drenched in awareness at the sight of lollipop green almond-shaped eyes inches away from his own. The eyes, which also belonged to a face and body, retreated and Stiles looked at the person before him.

It was another one of those child-adult things, but this one looked softer than the last one. Stiles was still unsure of the gender, or what on earth the thing was. The other one had seemed… dark, while this one seemed light and happy.

It cooed happily and tugged him to his feet with an incredible amount of strength. Looking around, Stiles saw that there were little child-adults standing in front of each of the rocks lining the clearing. He counted 11 of them, all looking similarly different (if that even made sense? They all looked like androgynous children, but they looked different…). The child-adult holding his hand chattered happily, tugging him to the center of the clearing before skipping over to the only empty rock.

Stiles was confused. _What’s happening? Are these… things friendly? The other one didn’t seem to be so nice… Maybe because it had just been hit by a car or something? Hmm…._

There was a faint tinkling of bells in the back of Stiles’ mind, sort of. It was like he could hear the bells, but he couldn’t really _hear_ them. Then, soft voices began to sing, swelling to an overwhelming pitch as the bells rang louder and more frantically. Stiles turned in circles, looking at all the child-adults as they danced wildly around their circle. He knew instinctively that the song was coming from them. There were 13 voices though, where was the last one coming from?

Stiles searched for the voice in his head only to discover that it was coming from him, and that he was dancing just as wildly as the rest of the child-adults. He felt that haze taking over his mind and he fought it, but felt too tired and apathetic to care too much, so he let it out. He could feel pricks of pain in his lips as sharp fangs split his mouth open and his eyesight blurred before he saw everything in sharper, crisper color. It was all different and he wasn’t sure what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His feet were wet and his hands were flying through the air and his body was twirling and twisting frantically and his voice swelled and then all the voices became audible and the bell ringing was loud and in his ears and

“Stiles!” a voice yelled, sending out shrieks of terror from the child-adults. They scattered and hid and Stiles could still see them, feel them, but they weren’t there.

He looked toward the intruder, snarling. _Derek? What does_ he _need?_

Derek looked shocked, startled. Slowly, the rest of the pack began to appear and Stiles wanted to eliminate them, was scared. He needed to protect, needed to get away. He began to back away towards the pool of water caused by the spring and Derek sprung towards him, grabbing his wrist.

“No! Stiles, don’t get in the water!”

Stiles jerked his wrist frantically, trying to get away from Derek and to safety. The tiny part of him that was Stiles knew that he should be listening to Derek, knew that something was wrong, but the rest of him couldn’t help but want to scream and get away from him, stay away from him, find refuge in the deep water. He knew subconsciously that there were caves, and he wanted to hide in them.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed at the pack.

“We’re saving you, Stiles. Don’t get in the water, okay? Don’t be stupid!” Lydia cried out.

Stiles glared at him. “Saving? You think… You think you’re saving me? I need saving _from_ you!” With that, he wrenched his arm out of Derek’s grasp, a loud crack shattering the quiet of the forest.

Stiles cried out at the pain, he was pretty sure that he’d shattered his wrist by doing that. He backed away and stepped into the water and Derek tackled him.

“No!” Stiles screamed, thrashing against Derek. “Let me go!”

The rest of the pack came forward and essentially puppy-piled on him, but he knew that they were just trying to keep him captive. He struggled even more frantically, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He gasped and choked as his vision tunneled and everything turned to black.

***********************

 _I have got to stop passing out,_ Stiles thought as he woke up. He opened his eyes tentatively to see a face above his. Derek’s. At the sight, Stiles jerked awake and sat up.  “What’s going on?”

“We’d like to ask you that, actually,” Lydia’s voice said. Stiles looked around the room and saw that he was inside Deaton’s clinic with the entire pack piled around him. Lydia was sitting at his head, buffing her nails. Stiles could see the tremor in her hands, though, and immediately realized that she was upset.

“What do you mean?” he asked the room at large.

“We haven’t known what you’ve been doing for weeks, Stiles! I’ve been so worried about you, but you pushed us away and we all thought you were on drugs after Jackson found you in the woods and-” the words tumbled out of Erica’s mouth before she physically stopped them with a hand to her mouth. “What’ve you been doing? You’ve worried us.”

“I haven’t been doing drugs, okay? I’m not… I’m not sure what’s been going on.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking that there might be something… supernatural going on with you.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me I’m some sort of fucking were-thing, okay?”

“You’re not. You’re a spriggan,” Deaton said, entering the room.

“I’m a _what_?” Stiles asked Derek incredulously.

“Well… you’re some sort of pixie,” Derek said, not looking at Stiles.

“A pixie. Like, blue-skinned, winged, mischievous creature Harry Potter type pixie?”

“Not quite, Stiles. You’re closer to a guardian spirit, but you’re definitely a member of the darker fae-kind,” Deaton said with a slight grimace, rubbing a bruise on his arm (Stiles had a slight suspicion that he was the one who had put it there).

“So I’m _evi_ l now? How the fuck did that happen? And why did Derek know before I did?” Stiles asked.

Deaton rolled his eyes. “You are not _evil_ , just a bit dark. That doesn’t mean that you have to choose to make bad choices, which you would be doing if you _were_ evil. You’re just a bit… dark. Anyway, the way I figured out what you were was the same way you figure out what everything else is: research. I talked to a friend of mine who knows much more Celtic, Cornish, and Welsh lore than I do and… here you are. Derek knew before you did because he helped me figure it out. He was concerned about you and so he came to talk to me about you.”

“But… I haven’t always been a spriggan, right?”

“Well, no, you haven’t been. You know how you saw what you call a ‘child-adult’ on the road about a month ago? Well, that was a spriggan. It sensed that you had a spark  as well as some fae genes, apparently, and planted some sort of spores in you, allowing its genetics to take place in yours to continue its line. Pretty strange, and not overly common, but not too bad overall.”

Stiles stared at the cheerful vet. “Do you think that I’m supposed to be clapping my hands and cheering or something? Because I’m not going to. Why the hell are there even spriggans here? Not to mention, fae genes? I don’t have fae genes.”

“There’s no more!” chirped Isaac. Stiles wanted to slap the smile off of his face since everybody knew it was an act. Okay, maybe only Stiles knew and everybody else thought he was an adorable little puppy. But still. “We got rid of them all!”

“Then why were they here?”

“Well….” Derek flushed a little bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were attracted to the pixies that were here…”

“You mean… All of this happened because of the _stupid fucking pixies_?!?” Stiles’ voice rose in volume as he got angrier. “I got quasi-possessed by a damn spriggan, acted like a crazy person, lost weight, sleep, good grades, and damaged my relationships with my friends and my father because you couldn’t get rid of a couple of _pixies_?? Also, answer my question about genetics!”

Deaton looked Stiles in the eye. “You’re partially fae, Stiles. Claudia was actually fae-kind and she passed those genes down to you. Its why you never seem to stay down long when you get hurt, amongst other things. Such as the spriggan being able to insert it’s own genetic code into yours.”

Stiles stared at Deaton before turning on his heel and storming out of the building, slamming the door behind him. He let out a shriek of anger. “I didn’t want to be a freaking supernatural creature! I would’ve accepted Peter’s offer if I had!” He turned back around and saw the pack right behind him. Glaring, he made to shove past them but there was a series of gasps.

“Stiles… your eyes!”

“What about them?”

“They’re… black. It’s creepy as hell,” Scott said, awestruck.

Stiles rolled said eyes and looked straight at Derek. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t listened to me, none of this would’ve happened.”

Derek flinched as if he’d been slapped and Stiles glared at him before stomping off. **  
**


	7. A Little Bit of Erica By My Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with me, you guys.  
> I got like, 900 new hits yesterday so that was awesome.  
> here's the COMPLETELY rewritten chapter of this and the bwca, so. Reread if you have any confusion.  
> Love you guys and all that good stuff.  
> My tumblr: 100klicksaway.tumblr.com

Stiles still felt like he was going crazy, still felt like he was trapped in his own skin, but at least he knew why. It was because he was a bloody _fairie_ , alright. It didn’t help matters that he was gay, or at least bisexual (even if he hadn’t come out yet). It made him feel like a joke. Stiles still felt completely out of control, and he still had this urging itch to go to that stupid clearing and to swim in that stupid pool.

  
Stiles pushed his homework aside. He knew that he was going to go sooner or later, so he figured that it’d be better to do it prepared and sooner rather than unprepared and later. It’d be better to be awake then to be sleepwalking again, he might not have his cellphone on him next time.

  
It was a bit late, so he crept down the stairs and out the door, hoping his Jeep didn’t wake his dad up. Fortunately, it didn’t, and with that, Stiles took off to the clearing.

  
After getting there, he immediately walked over to the pool of water and kicked off his shoes and socks, wading into the water. He began to go in further and further, to the point of treading water and being shocked at how deep it was. Something brushed against his ankle and he panicked, he couldn’t see anything and there was no way to know what was underneath him. The thing brushed his ankle again and suddenly there was a piercing pain in his leg and he was dragged under the surface.

  
The air rushed out of Stiles’ lungs with the sudden movement and he coughed only to inhale water. He began to get dizzy and although he couldn’t see anything, he could feel the black spotting his vision. Right as he was about to pass out due to oxygen loss, his head broke the surface of the water and he coughed, breathing in the air surrounding him. Stiles clawed at the water, flailing for a solid surface in the pitch black darkness surrounding him. He finally found a wall with his hand and pulled himself up onto rock ledge, wiping at his mouth after he coughed up more water.

  
“Hello?” he called, even though he doubted anyone would respond. He was in an underwater cavern in the middle of the woods, obviously no one was there… other than the creature which had pulled him underwater in the first place.   
“Fuck,” Stiles spat out, staggering to his feet. There was a tiny scraping noise coming from far away and Stiles froze. _What the fuck?_ He looked around and something fell off the ledge beside him, splashing into the water and startling Stiles. There was another scraping sound and then a loud knocking and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. He was beyond terrified.  Stiles continued to frantically look around and saw a shape out of the corner of his eye. Looking toward it, he saw something which was even darker than the pitch black cavern, something which blotted out the darkness. It was huge, and it was coming toward Stiles, making more scraping noises the whole while and occasionally stopping and making another knocking noise.

The knocking sound came again from directly beside him and Stiles shrieked as a pair of teeth sank into the skin of his neck.  
Stiles struggled, feeling the fangs appear and split his lip and the strange feeling in his eyes which he was coming to recognize as his eyes turning black. Suddenly, he could see the entire cave, and the monster which was now in front of him. Stiles wanted to cry at the sight of the grotesque creature with blood on its teeth and a smile on its face. Instead, he thrashed and pushed away from the thing, falling to his knees and onto his wrist. He felt the bone snap and he cried out in pain, cradling his wrist up to his chest.

  
He instinctively knew that the thing in front of him was a predator, that it _wanted_ him to get out of it’s grip so it could chase him. Stiles was terrified, so he jumped to his feet, kicked the thing, and ran towards the pool of water which he’d stumbled away from in the dark.

  
His eyes were starting to blur from the tears of terror welling forth and he stumbled once, twice, three times as he heard the creature stumbling and roaring behind him. He couldn’t find out, couldn’t find himself, needed to be saved. He needed help, needed someone, oh god he didn’t want to die.

  
Stiles saw the water directly ahead and jumped at it, not caring if he bashed his head on the rocks on the way down or if he drowned and died, as long as he wasn’t eaten by that beast. He found himself in an underground lake and saw a pinprick of light in the distance at the surface. He swam towards it, holding his breath as best as he could but he could feel himself losing the air in his lungs.

  
The light got closer and closer and closer as he kicked upwards desperately and his vision was more and more spotted and then he breathed in water and he felt peace, he was drowning, dying, but still fighting and then he wasn’t. Air burst into his lungs and he coughed and choked and sputtered out the water that had collected in his lungs and he was _alive._

  
“Fuck, fuck. That was so fucking stupid, Stiles, you stupid, stupid fool,” he gasped as he paddled toward the edge of the pool. He clambered out and grabbed his shoes, sprinting for the Jeep. Stiles’ hands were shaking so badly that he missed the ignition keyhole three times before finally jamming the key in and starting the Jeep, roaring out of the woods and back to Deaton’s. 

When he got there, it was closed, which, _obvious,_ it was fucking three AM. Stiles sat in his Jeep for a moment before deciding to go back home, sleep it off, wrap his wrist, and then talk to Deaton after school the next day.

The next day, Stiles slept in. He barely made it to school on time and he spent the entire day wandering around like a zombie, paying no attention to anyone. At lunch, Lydia ended up snapping her fingers under his nose because of how little attention to her he was paying (which was uncharacteristic for him). She’d apparently asked him how he hurt his wrist three seperate times and he hadn’t answered any of them. He shook it off and spent the end of the day scrawling illegible notes and trying to pretend to listen.

  
At the end of the day, he practically sprinted to his locker, shoving everything inside and ignoring any homework that he may or may not have received. Instead, he went to the parking lot as fast as he could and left for Deaton’s.

  
By the time he finally got to the veterinarian’s, his hands were shaking. Deaton took a single look at him and frowned. “Stiles, I can’t talk to you until my clients leave. You know that.”

“Deaton, please, it’s really important, okay?” Stiles mumbled, shuffling his feet and biting at his fingers.

Deaton scrutinized him before sighing. “Alright, go wait in the back. I’ll be with you soon.”

  
Stiles trudged into the back room and sat down, kicking his feet while he impatiently waited for Deaton, who took _forever_ (okay, maybe it was only half an hour, but still). Deaton finally walked into the room and Stiles shot to his feet.

“Alright, Stiles, what is it?”

“I think I’m cursed.”

Deaton gave him a bemused look. “Why do you say that?”

“Because last night, I went over to that stupid clearing that’s causing all these issues for me and then I got trapped in a stupid cave and some scary monster thing made these noises and took a bite out of my neck, see?” Stiles pulled open his drenched hoodie to reveal blood-crusted teeth marks dug into his skin, which were horrendously bruised and oozing out a yellowish pus.

“That looks pretty nasty. Why were you in the clearing in the first place? How did you get into the cave, and what sort of noises was the creature making?” Deaton asked, prodding at Stiles’ wound.

“Uhm, well… I figured that since I kept being drawn to the clearing, I might as well just go sooner or later, so I chose sooner,” Stiles paused as Deaton stared at him.

“Are you an idiot?” he asked.

“I just, I thought it was a good idea!”

Deaton rolled his eyes and continued to look at Stiles’ wound. “Continue.”

“Well anyway, when I got there, I went and got into that pool thing that I somehow made? I don’t really remember much, but I dug a pool of water and then it got really big really fast. Uhm, so I went in there and something tried to drown me and then I got stuck in an underwater cavern and there was this fuc- freaking giant thing that came toward me and it sounded like somebody was knocking on a door or something, and there were a lot of scraping noises.” Stile asked, wincing every time the vet’s finger touched his skin.

“That… honestly sounds like a bwca to me. I’m wondering how you survived, though. You shouldn’t have, technically. Although with your track record, you either got incredibly lucky… Or incredibly unlucky.”

“Wait… what’s a bwca?” Stiles asked.

Deaton turned away from Stiles to pick up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a few cotton balls. He poured some on Stiles’ neck wounds and Stiles groaned from the stinging pain. “I’ve already told you what you are, but let me tell you some more information which might pertain to why you’ve survived the bwca. A spriggan is essentially a dark pixie, which is another word for fairie or fae. According to folklore, they’re really ugly, but they have a glamor spell which allows them to take the form they choose. They’re also considered pixie bodyguards and protectors. They are some of the strongest members of fae kind and it’s… actually nearly completely unknown as to what they can do at all. You’re probably going to have a lot of odd tendencies from now on that I can’t predict for you. It’d be nice if you told me about them, so that the rest of my community and I have more information for in the future, even though you are merely half spriggan. Fae kind tend to stick to themselves and not really bother with the human community. Anyway, that’s what you are. A bwca is essentially a cannibalistic fae; they are related to pixies and fairies, yet they tend to eat them. In fact, it’s considered a great game for the bwca to let their prey go and then chase them,” Deaton answered quietly, pouring more hydrogen peroxide onto Stiles. “Unless, of course, they’re in mating season, in which case they extend an invitation to another fae of their choice, which is considered a grand honor.”

Stiles looked up sharply. “What? No. Deaton, no. Please tell me you don’t mean it.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles…” Deaton responded softly. “There isn’t much you can do, though.”

“Can I reverse it? Is there any way? Why the hell would it choose me?” Stiles asked, starting to hyperventilate.

Deaton shrugged. “The only way to reverse the mating bond is to kill the bwca… otherwise it’s going to just keep going after you.”

Stiles closed his eyes with a sigh before pushing past Deaton on his way out the door.

“Oh, and Stiles?”

Stiles paused to listen to Deaton’s last words without turning back to face him. “Remember not to touch any  iron. You’ve been able to touch it your entire life because your fae blood was dormant within you, but it isn’t any longer. If you touch iron, you will get burned.”

Stiles left then, angrily thinking about how yet another part of his life was made more difficult.

Rather than heading home, Stiles drove to Derek’s. He needed to tell the rest of the pack what was going on with him, and hopefully work out a strategy as to how to kill the bwca. He knew for a fact that the rest of the pack were at Derek’s because he’d heard Scott tell Allison to ‘remember to be there at 5:00 and it was 5:07. He was pretty pissed that he still hadn’t been invited, that he was _still_ being left out.

Stiles slammed the Jeep door shut and walked up to the house, banging on the door. “Hale! Let me in, you asshole!”

The door was wrenched open and a glaring Isaac answered. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away from the pack.”

“I didn’t realize you were this stupid. Obviously, things right now involve me, too,” Stiles snarled back at the boy in front of him.

“We don’t need to protect a weak human, okay? So just leave us to do the work like usual.”

Stiles was stung by that, but refused to let it show. Instead, he glared at Isaac. “Let me in.”

“If you can get past me, feel free.”

Stiles shoved past Isaac, pushing him hard enough that he bumped into the opposite wall. Obviously, he hadn’t gotten the memo that Stiles was much stronger and faster than he used to be. Asshole.

Stiles stormed into the den, interrupting Derek. “What have I missed?”

The entire pack was startled to see him.

“Uhm… why are you here, Stiles?” Scott asked.

“To talk to you. Why else would I be gate-crashing your wolfy party?” Stiles said with an eyeroll.  

“Stiles. We don’t need or desire you or your information, okay? Sorry to break it to you,” Isaac spat out.

Stiles looked at Derek and he shrugged, looking incredibly pained before nodding. “Go home, Stiles.”

Stiles glared at them all. “Fine. _Fine_! I don’t need your fucking help, then! It obviously doesn’t matter to you what’s going on in my life right now that could _kill me!_ ” Stiles looked around at the shocked room and glared more. Scott was sitting there with his mouth hanging open in surprise, Isaac looked angry, Erica and Boyd looked stunned, and even Lydia looked thrown off her guard. “I’m going,” Stiles said, turning to the door. Derek made a choked noise but Isaac put a hand on his arm to keep him from rising easily.

He headed to the door but a quiet voice stopped him. “But where would Batman be without Catwoman?”

Stiles turned with a grin on his face. “You’re willing to help me, Erica?”

“Yeah, if you accept my help,” she nodded, getting to her feet.

“Let’s go. I have to fill you in.”

*****************************

Stiles and Erica sat on his bed, contemplating on a strategy. Stiles had filled her in on the bwca and everything which had transpired with it and now they were thinking of how to kill it. Stiles was trying to clear his head but he couldn’t, he couldn’t stop thinking about that noise that Derek made, those little looks that he’d been making these past few months, how pained he looked and how he almost seemed to want to stop Stiles. He couldn’t get Derek out of his head and he knew that his stupid crush was becoming overblown and it pissed him off. Stiles didn’t really trust Derek (like, at all) and second off, he still needed help. The pack didn’t want him, obviously, and none of them had talked about how to get Stiles to control himself (because he was still really having problems with that, even if no-one else knew it). He was still losing weight and now he only wanted to eat completely raw meat and he hadn’t slept since he was kidnapped by the bwca. Stupid mating ritual. Stupid supernatural elements. Stupid magic.

Although the one benefit was that his wrist had somehow miraculously healed, so… there was that.

Stiles let out a loud sigh and Erica looked up at him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I just… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, okay? I’m confused and exhausted and this whole fairie thing is killing me, especially not that I have a cannibal suitor. Like, what the fuck even. And nobody in the pack cares about me and I’m just… confused.” Stiles buried his head in hands.

“Well, that’s not true. I care about you, and I’m pack. Even though I can be a bitch, Stiles, you’re still my friend. It’s… difficult for me to talk to you, though, when nearly no one else is. My wolf doesn’t want me to lose my place in my pack, so… I have to go against it,” Erica said softly, reaching out and patting Stiles.

“You’re just one person, though! What about everyone else? Isaac hates me, Derek is confusing me, Scott isn’t even _talking_ to me and he’s supposed to be my best friend…”

“Isaac is a bit of a problem. I don’t think he hates you, though, I think he’s just angry with you about something. Every time you’re in the room together, I smell jealousy. Derek cares about you, really. He just… doesn’t know how to show it and he’s afraid. I don’t know what he’s afraid of, but he’s scared to talk to you. I think he’s scared that you’ll get hurt just by being around him. And Scott is like the rest of us in the pack. He just doesn’t quite know how to talk to you anymore, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Stiles groaned before rolling off his bed and reaching underneath, pulling out a long box. He opened it and pulled out a black iron dagger. He’d had it specially custom made with the instructions that it had to be a perfect replica of the drawing that he’d sent in.

Essentially, he’d drawn up an idea for a weapon that would kill supernatural creatures (because he couldn’t use the bat for forever) and had it specially ordered under the excuse that he was using it for cosplay. It was black iron with a curved, scimitar-like blade and he’d spent hours painstakingly carving runes into it with Deaton, pouring the bits of magic he had into it, and coating it liberally in an incredibly toxic type of wolfsbane.

He knew for a fact that iron both killed fae and prevented them from reincarnating, so he figured that this would be his best choice to slay the bwca with. However, _he_ couldn’t touch it anymore, and neither could Erica.

“Help me find a way to use this, would you?”

“Will we get to kill the bwca?”

“Yeah. Let’s go kill that son of a bitch,” Stiles said with a feral grin.

 

********

Stiles slipped into the cavern, holding the dagger out in front of him. He and Erica had found some gloves which Stiles put on, so his fingers were fat and felt clumsy, but at least the iron was barely affecting him. He would’ve had Erica use it, but the wolfsbane would’ve killed her. Erica came up out of the water behind him, sputtering and wet. He grinned and let his eyes bleed black. His fangs pricked his lip yet again. _I really need to learn to control that…_

The werewolf and the fae-boy walked through the cavern, listening and looking carefully. Suddenly, they heard that quiet scraping noise that Stiles knew signaled the bwca. Stiles was slightly nervous, not sure of what would happen when he killed it. Or if he even could kill it.

The bwca approached much quicker than it had the last time Stiles had seen it. He was slightly surprised, but then he heard a rumble in his head. _ **Mate.**_

“What the hell? Did you hear that, Erica?” Stiles whisper-yelled, terrified by the implications.

“Uhm, no… the only thing I heard was your heartbeat skyrocket. What’s up?”

“Huh. Well, either I’m finally going crazy, or the flipping bwca can communicate telepathically with me. Not sure which one, but I’m kind of thinking it might be the latter, which is rather terrifying,” Stiles laughed uneasily.

Erica looked around before grabbing Stiles’ arm. “I can barely see anything, do you even know if we’re in the right spot?”

“Yeah, we are. Trust me. And uh, you might be able to see better in a minute. Not sure, though.”  

Erica squeaked as a loud knocking sounded close to them and Stiles looked to his right to see the hideous bwca. ** _I am NOT your MATE!_**

The thing made a growling noise and lunged at Erica. She growled back and wolfed out (ha. He loved using that term), slashing out at the bwca with her claws. Stiles let the cloth wrapping _Ubiytsa_ (the name which he’d given to his dagger) fall to the cavern floor and a light glow emanating from the weapon filled the area.

The bwca growled again and made a loud clicking noise with its fangs before clutching Erica in its giant fists and tearing into her arm with its fangs. Blood spilled onto the floor with a wet splatter and both Erica and Stiles groaned. The creature clutched her tighter and there were several loud snapping sounds as her ribs shattered one by one. The sound made Stiles think of his wrist and he winced.

Stiles felt sick to his stomach, he hadn’t prepared for this at all. The bwca dropped Erica to the ground and she fell in a limp pile, passed out from the pain. For some reason, her werewolf powers hadn’t kicked in yet.

The bwca lunged at Stiles and he dodged, trying not to panic. He needed to stay clear headed, he needed… He needed to save Erica, if not himself. He couldn’t let her die.

With that thought, Stiles braced himself as the monster lunged toward him again. He sliced out with _Ubiytsa_ and the bwca screamed as a flood of acidic blood gushed out of its wound. Stiles grimaced before stabbing forward once, twice, five times more, gutting the monster and making sure it was good and dead.

Stiles grimaced and trotted over to Erica, shaking her to consciousness. He noted that she was almost entirely healed, but had just not woken up until he woke her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help, Batman, but I guess you didn’t need it,” she said with a wan smile as she got to her feet gingerly.

“It’s alright. We killed it together.”

With that, they exited the cave.


	8. I'm Already Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I lost the flash drive that all of my work was saved onto, and... yeah. I have no clue. So this chapter is much different than the original chapter was.

Stiles and Erica had exited the cave and got back into Stiles's Jeep, his baby. He'd wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of blood, which he was more sensitive to than usual. he didn't want blood in his baby, but he guessed it'd have to wait. He could clean her out later.

Stiles drove Erica back to the Hale house and dropped her off, not bothering to go inside and deal with the idiots inside the house. He didn't want to deal with any of them... Not Isaac, not Lydia... not Derek. His heart twinged and he forced himself to calm his heartbeat, to ignore his thoughts. He knew that he cared for them, but he didn't want to anymore.

He didn't want to deal with anyone or anything.

Over the span of the next month or so, Stiles worked hard to learn how to control himself, control his shift. He studied harder than ever, burying himself in his studies and ignoring everybody in the pack, and ignoring Scott, too. He didn't care anymore, he just wanted to go to a good college far away from Beacon Hills.

He eventually got a letter from a college in England, close to Cornwall. It was actually a letter from a supernatural college, and Stiles read it eagerly, deciding on the spot that he was going to accept the scholarship and study abroad. The program that he picked up would eventually have him travel all over Europe, which was something that he'd wanted to do for a long time anyway. He figured it was a win-win situation for him: he'd be getting an excellent education at the same time as getting away from the pack, who he was completely invisible to at that point.

He wrote a letter to UC Berkeley, declining his entrance, then he wrote a letter to the English School of Arts and Folklore, accepting their scholarship. They had a program where he'd be able to start early, and he jumped at the chance, graduating early at Beacon Hills High.

He didn't show up to school for 3 weeks and nobody noticed.

Nobody noticed at all.

His father, of course, was upset, but Stiles couldn't plan his life around his father.

Stiles couldn't plan his life around anyone.

He figured that he'd tell the pack if they asked, but none of them ever did. Finally, he'd had enough. A few days before he left for England, he drove angrily over to the Hale house, storming in without even knocking.

""Uhm... what are you doing here?" Jackson asked, sneering at him.

"I just thought that you... _people_... might like to be informed that I'm leaving for college in a few days."

"But... UC Berkeley doesn't have an early summer program..." Allison said, looking at Stiles in a confused manner.

"I'm not going to UC Berkeley. I accepted another school's offer."

"But... that was your dream school, Stiles. You're still going to be in California, right?" Scott said, throwing the puppy eyes at Stiles.

He laughed at that. "I'm not even going to be in the same _country_ as you," he said condescendingly, smirking slightly at the shocked silence that followed his words but feeling cold and broken down to the bone.

There was a moment of silence, no noise at all. Stiles was slightly surprised, he was accustomed to the silence always being filled with his own talkativeness. He figured, though, that in the end it didn't matter too much.

He wasn't normal.

He wasn't fixed.

There was still something wrong with him, and nobody had told him what it was. Deaton refused to tell him. Stiles snarled to himself, he knew that Deaton knew. Deaton always knew. Stiles shook his head to bring himself back under control. he didn't want to fall under the control of The Beast, as he called that dark portion of his mind. The Stiles part of him knew that Deaton didn’t actually know while he was still being crazy. Stiles figured he could brush it off by saying that it was the dark part of him acting, since he was a dark fae.

Stiles looked up at the group of people staring at him, mouths gaping wide open.

"Can you repeat that again?" Derek finally said slowly, unsurely.

"I'm leaving in three days. I'm studying abroad. In Europe."

Derek growled loudly. “No! You’re not allowed to leave, Stiles. Why would you even think that you were?”

“Uhm, because I am kind of my own person? I’m not even a member of the pack, Derek. You made sure of that.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek huffed angrily, eyes flashing red. Stiles noticed a desperation in Derek’s face which he’d never seen before.

“I’m talking about every single damn moment of my life that I’ve known you, Derek. You never stopped Isaac from being a jerk. You never stopped Jackson, or Lydia, or Scott or Allison or Erica or Boyd. You never saved me, or protected me. You never did anything but hurt me and I’m sick of it and you and all your stupid wolfiness, okay?” Stiles said lowly, quietly, deep in his throat. It came out as a sort of guttural sound and Derek recoiled some. Stiles knew that his own eyes had bled dark and none of the pack were accustomed to that.

“I like some of you… sometimes. But I’m leaving, okay?”

“But… what about me, Stiles? Are you just going to give up on me?” Lydia asked slightly pleadingly.

Stiles laughed harshly. “You know what? Now would be as good of a time as ever to tell you. I was _never in love with you_.  I was never even in love with the _thought_ of you, or the idea of you, or _anything_ about you. I liked you, and you made a perfect cover for a ditzy teenage boy who talked a mile a minute and wanted to cover up the fact that he was _gay_. But that’s all you were ever good for, which is saying more than the rest of these creatures you hang out with.” With that scathing remark, Stiles turned on his heel and walked out of the house, feeling his heart break with every step he took away from everyone else.

He climbed into his Jeep fighting back tears and by the time he reached his house, he was sobbing. He slammed the front door shut and fell on the couch, not bothering with going to his bedroom. After a little bit, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he shuddered. “What do you need, Derek?”

“I just… I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles looked up at him in disbelief. _Could he actually care?_

The werewolf knelt beside the fae-boy and ran a hand over his head. “C’mon, Stiles… you know you don’t really want to leave…”

Stiles recoiled as though slapped. “Get out.” His voice was cold and hard, cutting as glass.

“What?”

“I said, get out. You heard me. Leave. Now.”

“Stiles…” Derek murmured, touching his arm.

“No. Just… I can’t even deal with you and your bullshit. I thought you _cared_!” Stiles turned as he started to cry again.

“I do care, I promise!” Derek said. With that, he fit his hand against Stiles’ cheek and pressed his lips against Stiles’ own. Stiles froze still as Derek kissed him, soft and slow.

Stiles didn’t respond for a moment as he felt Derek kiss him. It was both everything he’d wanted as well as everything he didn’t. He pushed Derek away from him roughly, jumping to his feet.

“Stiles? What was that?” Derek asked, getting to his feet slowly.

Stiles backed away, slightly petrified. “You… you get away from me, and don’t come near me again.”  With that, he bolted up to his room and slammed the door, fumbling under his bed. He pulled out the bag of mountain ash and lined both his window and door frame with it, believing with all his might that it would work.


	9. Dog Days Are Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is Awesome!Stiles being awesome...  
> Also, sorry that it's taken me so flipping long to write this. I hate school. And all my stupid AP classes. I am dumb. Yes.  
> But NaNoWriMo, anyone? That's what I'm workin' on :P
> 
>  
> 
> True story: I started crying when I wrote this beginning bit. I cannot listen to angsty music and write sad scenes without crying (which I was doing). I am WAY too emotional for that shit. 
> 
> Also. I've never been in an airport, so... I dunno. 
> 
> Also. Sorry this is so short.

Stiles wiped the sweat that was dripping from his eyes as he pushed the last heavy box into the moving truck, which was going somewhere to be shipped to Stiles. He was moving to freaking England, holy crap. He couldn't get over that, no matter how hard he tried.

Stiles turned to look at his father, smiling sadly as he thought about how much he would miss him. "Hey, Dad... How about I treat you with a pizza? I'll even let you pick a meat topping to eat with it."

His dad smiled back at him weakly and nodded his agreement. "Damn straight, you will."

With that, the small family turned and went into the house, both pretending they don't see the other's tears.

***********************

Stiles flung his arms around his dad's neck at the airport after his flight was called, holding on tight. "Dad... I'm kind of nervous and scared.."

"Stiles... you don't have to go. I know that you like folklore and all that, but there's plenty of colleges in America that specialize in that. You don't have to leave if you don't want to," the Sheriff said, rubbing Stiles' back gently.

"No, no... I can do it, it's okay. I just... need to center myself. I gotta focus, and I can do anything. I can leave, and be my own person, and build my own life. I don't need to center it on anyone else. I just... God, Dad... I'm just so nervous. What if I screw up everything and everyone hates me and I'm a freakin' social pariah?!"

"It's your choice, Stiles."

Stiles nodded and pulled away from his father slightly reluctantly before picking up his bags and walking towards the airplane terminal. He boarded his plane and sat on the flight for a the next 8 hours, crossing over several times and listening to angsty, angry music the entire time. _Avenged Sevenfold is one of my new favorites..._ He thought rather bitterly, staring out at the clouds beneath the plane. When his flight finally landed in England, he was tired and upset due to his depressing music.

He grabbed his bag from luggage check and looked around for the driver who was going to take him to the college, unable to find him. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see a beautiful, tall, blue-eyed bombshell right behind him. _Oh, man... she's really beautiful, and I'm not into girls..._

"Hey, you Stiles?" _Ha. Nevermind, not a girl. Simply a crossdresser, but_ fuck _he's hot_. Stiles laughed to himself.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you the driver?"

"Well, I'm actually a student, but I'm going to drive you."

"Cool..." Stiles and the boy loaded his stuff into the car and began the long drive to the secluded college.

 


	10. Hurricane Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to school. And meets creepy people. Not for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm an absolutely horrible, no good very bad awful person. because I suck at updating.  
> And I know that I promised I would update more, and longer chapters.  
> But then shit happened.  
> ie, I totally lost my thread on this story.  
> ie I decided I didn't know what the fuck I was doing with this. or my life.  
> I had like, a mid-teenage life crisis.  
> ie I stopped writing.  
> THEN I was like, oh holy fuck I know what i'm going to write!  
> And then. My laptop broke.  
> So that is why there have been ZERO updates for like, a freaking month. because I suck. Pretty much.  
> BUT here y'all go. Hope you enjoy and don't hate me too much. Also, hopefully going to update again soon. I wrote this at my library at school :smirks: And they think they have all the bad websites blocked...

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck in wonder as he looked up at the enormous castle towering over him. “So… is there some sort of plot twist where some creature comes out of here and eats my face off?” he asked the guy who had driven him. Thinking of the guy… he still didn’t know his name. He’d just been thinking of him as Hottie McHotPants the entire ride over.

“Uhm… what. I can’t even.” Hottie said, flicking his brilliant azure eyes over Stiles again. Stiles couldn’t help but to swoon slightly.

“Hey… what’s your name?” Stiles asked after recovering from his swoon-flail- **fail.**

“You’re only _just now_ thinking of asking me? Really?” Hottie let out a big breath of air before looking at Stiles again. “It’s Seth. Now…  ugh, follow me, you strange little munchkin.”

“I am not a munchkin!” Stiles said, dragging his bags after him and hobbling slightly after smacking one of them into his right kneecap. He looked up one more time at the slightly monstrous castle before heading into its depths.

Seth led him to a door a few feet beyond the castle’s main door and knocked a few times before opening the door. He waved Stiles into the room and closed the door behind him, not entering.

Stiles entered the room, dragging his stupidly heavy bags behind him. The door shut rather loudly behind him and he glanced behind him, rather startled. Stiles looked around the dark room and jumped when a cold female voice came from his left.

“Beag faolchú.” A tall, dark haired lady stood next to him, arms crossed in front of her chest and crisp red shirt tucked into a similar skirt.

“W-what?” Stiles said, recognizing the lack of English in the lady’s voice.

“Little wolf. That is who you are, correct? He who runs with wolves, and shares with wolves, and fights like a wolf?”

“Uhm… I don’t know if I would or could quite describe myself like that… I’m obviously not that heroic or anything, so…” Stiles mumbled, rubbing the back of his head rather awkwardly.

“Well, we all describe you as such because you are such.” The cold lady said, stalking forward.

Stiles flinched slilghtly at her approach, seeing as she was now all up in his face and y’know, personal space and all. “Who’s we? Who calls me that… beeaghk fowlchew?”

The cold lady laughed slightly, high pitched and dark. “That was atrocious. Also, all of us in the supernatural world call you that. We all know you, and want you. Did you know, you are the only human ever invited to join this school? Only a few even know about it. You are very highly revered amongst us. Not many humans would care enough about us to defend us, let alone fight with us and for us. You’ve done well, little wolf.”

Stiles gaped at her, unable to take in all of that information. She looked at him momentarily before sitting down at her desk and picking up a sheaf of papers, handing them to the slightly befuddled boy. Stiles took them from her, flinching yet again at how cold her hands were, before backing away slightly.

“You are dismissed.” The cold lady flicked a hand at Stiles and the door opened behind him.

Stiles backed out of the room, pulling his bags with him. He stood in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out where to go next when Seth appeared. “Ah, you’re done already? That was rather fast…”

Stiles nodded, suddenly dry-mouthed as he wondered what sort of supernatural creature Seth was. “Uhm…” he responded rather blankly. _Wait, shit, I forgot to mention that I'm not actually human to her, shit. I'll do it later..._

“C’mon, I have your copy of the key in our room,” Seth said, picking up one of Stiles’ bags and heading off towards a staircase at a rather brisk walk.

Stiles trotted after him confusedly. “We share a room?”

“Yeah, we were assigned as roommates because it was believed that we would feel comfortable around each other, seeing as I’m very humanoid and quite charismatically charming. People tend to adore me, but humans feel less of my allure. It was felt that you could room with me easily and feel the least amount of effect.”

“Wait… what are you?” Stiles asked, rather out of breath from running up the stairs.

Seth grinned at him with such a bright grin that Stiles’ could have sworn his teeth glinted. “I’m an incubus.”


	11. The Phrase That Pays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas, and holidays, and stuff guys. This one's long just for you.  
> Also, my computer genius brother gave me one of his super-awesome programmed laptops for Christmas/my birthday, so hopefully i'll be able to update more often and good stuff like that..

 

“W-what?!” Stiles asked, slightly shocked at Seth’s comment. “An incubus? Won’t that, y’know, _affect me_?”

Seth laughed. “No, of course not. My glamor doesn’t affect humans unless I want it to. It does affect most SP’s, though.”

“S… P’s?”

“Yeah. Us supernaturals. Like… the show, but better.”

Stiles blinked in confusion at Seth. “What? And who does it affect the most?”

Seth threw Stiles bags onto a previously empty bed (the other one was obviously occupied) before answering. “I guess you don’t know about it, seeing it’s not in this dimension… Anyway, Dean and Sam Winchester are fantastic. Besides being some of the most amazing demon hunters _ever,_ they’re pretty scary. Also, my glamor most strongly affects succubi, incubi, and fae, seeing as those three groups are all fairly closely linked cousins.”

“Oh…” Stiles said rather faintly. _What. I don’t even know what I am. And why does everyone keep referring to me as human? I'm not human anymore, so why does everyone keep saying I am? What even… Seth… What if his… beautiful liquid eyes and … charming voice and…_ Stiles shook his head to clear it of its thoughts and looked up at Seth. “Uhm… wanna give me a tour?”

*******

Throughout the rest of the day, Seth stalked through the school, pointing things out to Stiles and occasionally flicking his silky hair our of his beautiful face while Stiles trudged behind him.

“So what classes are you taking?”

“Uhm…” Stiles fished his schedule out of his ridiculously baggy pants. His pants used to be a little bit too big for him, but not horribly so. However, he’d lost so much weight in the past few months that he looked half-starved and his jeans hadn’t shrunk with him. “I’m taking Self Defense, Offensive Tactics, Beginner’s Basic Magic Theory, Astronomy and Astrology, Latin, and Human Lore this semester. I haven’t thought about next semester’s classes yet…” Stiles trailed off as he noticed Seth staring at him rather incredulously.

“What?”

“Are you being serious?” Seth asked with a snicker.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked defensively. _Just cos I think you're really fucking hot doesn't mean that I want to take your shit._

“You’re really taking those lame classes? What’s up with that, Little Wolf? I thought that you were all tough and shit, not that you needed any classes like _those_.”

“Don’t call me that, okay?” Stiles said irritably. “And I’m not all ‘tough and shit’. I’ve been lucky and smart, not brave or strong. I need the information and help that those classes will offer, and I’d prefer if you didn’t laugh about it.”

Seth rolled his eyes and looked away as Stiles tumbled into bed. “Whatever.”

Stiles took a deep breath to relax himself as he tried to get to sleep. He was worried about his dad and his friends- _Wait, no. I’m not worried about that. I_ have _no friends to be worried about. There’s a bunch of assholes back home that I used to run around with, but I don’t need or want them any longer, dammit. They can do what they want, and who they want, and I’ll do the same. Everything will work out fine…_ Stiles tossed a bit more in his bed, but finally sat up and rolled out of bed.

“Hey… what are you doing?” Seth mumbled sleepily.

“I can’t get to sleep.” Stiles hissed back, angry at himself for his thoughts rather than anyone else.

“Mmmm… C’mere,” Seth said, flopping his hand out toward Stiles.

Stiles looked at him skeptically. “Why?”

“Cuz I said so. Do it,” Seth propped himself up on one elbow, caramel eyes lazy with sleep.

Stiles gulped and slowly stepped towards him. Seth flicked his arm out and grabbed Stiles’ wrist, yanking Stiles on top of him. He shoved him over so that Stiles was facing up against the wall and Seth’s front was pressed into his back, arm flung over Stiles’ waist.

“Uhm… why are we spooning?”

“Because your tossing and turning is pissing me off and I just want you to be quiet. If you’re right here, I can keep you from moving. Hush up and sleep,” Seth grumbled, his breath hot against Stiles’ shoulder blades as Seth nuzzled his face into Stiles’ back. He tensed at first, but finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

**(******

The next morning, Stiles woke up to a loud clanging. He opened his eyes blearily and looked up at a fully dressed, refreshed looking Seth. “Get up, Stiles. You’re going to be late.”

“Mmmsholfeld,” Stiles slurred, rolling back over and burying his face in the pillow. Suddenly, there was a sharp crack and fire spread across his ass. Stiles sat bolt upright. “What the fuck was that?”

Seth smirked. “I told you to get up. You’re going to be late to…” he consulted a scrap of paper, “Astronomy. Lame.”

“Oh, come on! I bet you’ve never taken that class, so you don’t have the right to judge it.” Stiles said, yanking a shirt over his head and swiping some scentless deodorant on.

Seth rolled his eyes and walked out the door. Stiles bounced on one foot after him, hurriedly yanking his shoe on the other foot.

Stiles and Seth walked down the hall, noticing a few other stragglers hurrying to get to class. Stiles went up another staircase, remembering how Seth had pointed out the classroom to him previously. He grimaced slightly after thinking about Seth, whom he already had a major boner for. It wasn’t _his_ fault that he’d only had a very limited number of classes to choose from…

He walked into the astronomy classroom, noticing only a handful of other people. A tall, rather brawny man walked toward him and said in a thick brogue, “Ye can sit anywhere ya’d like to, laddie. Then, we’ll begin the class.”

Stiles sat at a desk min the front and center of the classroom and the man picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board. “I’m Prof. McKinney, and I’ll be yer teacher for these subjects of Astronomy, Astrology, and all related star stuff. Now, who has previous experience in this subject matter?”

Stiles blanked slightly. He had a rather hard time following Prof. McKinney’s accent, and he had no clue what he was talking about while he was following. The few other students seemed to have no problem following him, though. He started to have the awful feeling that Seth had been right. He really kind of just wanted to go home…

Stiles glanced back up at the board and noticed a massive jumble of numbers and letters arranged in a diagram and he groaned quietly, scrambling to write it all down on a piece of paper. There was a sudden flurry of papers and the other students stood up and filed out of the room. _What? Agh, what’s happening?!_

“Aren’t ya going to go to yer next class, laddie?” McKinney asked, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

Stiles jumped to his feet and essentially fled the room, bitterly cursing the subject in his head. He reached into his pocket to find his schedule and looked at his next class: Offensive Tactics. He sat through that class, finding it even worse than his astronomy and astrology and ‘other star stuff’ class. It was complete gibberish, a scrawl of x’s and o’s and boxes on notebook paper. Stiles kind of wanted to cry by the time it was over. He stumbled blearily into his next lesson, which was Self-Defense.

There were huge mats laying across the floors and a rather large group of people, as compared to his previous classes with only a few other people. Stiles bit his lip and walked over to the center of the room where the large knot of people were waiting. A small blonde man stood in the middle. He had a narrow face and tawny eyes.

“okay, is this everyone?” he said in a gravelly voice which made Stiles shiver. “We’re going to start the next hour with the basics. Locker room is over there, go get dressed out. From now on, I expect you to be dressed and ready by the time my lessons start. I will _not_ accept or tolerate tardiness. If you’re going to show up late, don’t bother coming at all.”

With that, the man turned away and the students filed into the locker rooms to change. Stiles felt rather like a piece of cattle being shuffled along with everyone else. _I feel so out of place here…_

After a moment, the majority of the students were out of the changing rooms. The man clapped his hands once and looked around at his students.

“I’m Professor Firence and I’ll be teaching this class. We’re going to begin with some basic sparring. Partner up.” There was a shuffling of feet and Stiles found himself pushed into an enormous girl with a square jaw and mean eyes. She glared at him and he backed away, terrified.

Firence began to walk around the room and assign people to offense or defense. He took one look at Stiles and, “Defense.” Stiles felt slightly insulted, but shrugged it off. With that, it began. Stiles partner- who he was pretty sure was at least a quarter troll- began to swing her meaty fists at him. Stiles yelped and backed away, tripping over his own feet. Her foot smashed into his ribs and he gasped sharply.

“Defend yourself!” barked Firence.

Stiles got to his feet slowly and held his arms up in a defensive posture, but he knew he was destined to fail. There was a thick crunch as the girl’s fist popped him in the face and Stiles growled.

Firence stared at him incredulously. “Defend yourself, you stupid sack of bones!” As he said it, the girl hit Stiles in the cheek again.

“I’m trying!” he yelped as she swung again. Firence snorted derisively as her fist hit his cheek and Stiles couldn’t help it any longer. He felt his eyes bleed black and his vision tunneled before crisping up and his mouth began to bleed and he blocked her next two swings before hitting the stupid cow in the face. His punch was strong, much stronger than he’d thought: there were numerous pops and crunches and the girl went flying backward into the wall a good 15 feet behind them. The room instantly went silent and the only sound was the dripping of Stiles’ blood onto the floor.

He began to pant and back away as he babbled. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, oh god oh godohgodohgod I’m _sorry!”_

Firence was already across the room and in front of the girl. A man burst into the room with a bag on his hip. He knelt beside the girl and began to pull out vials.

Stiles turned away and buried his face in his hands.  


	12. Young and Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... Eh. Is bumping my rating up. ALSO! Thank you to SnowWhitesBite for maki ng my day and making me write an entire chapter in an hour. Also thanks to DJ, for making me laugh, and to LuciLucifer. (The porn is for you). 
> 
> Spoiler: There's totally sex stuff going on in this chapter. At the end, ish? So skip over it, but read the last few paragraphs if you're squeamish or just don't like porn. Or blowjobs. Or gay porn/blowjobs (although how can you NOT?)

Stiles sat in the hallway, rather sad and confused. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't good. He hadn't meant to throw troll girl like that. He hadn't meant to do anything bad at all, actually. _I wonder how much trouble i'm going to get in for this... hopefully I won't be expelled or anything, because obviously that would suck and I don't really want to go back to Beacon Hills..._

There was a clicking of heels on the ground coming toward him, and Stiles peeked through his fingers. It was the scary cold lady, whom Seth had told him was the Headmistress. She stopped right in front of him, staring him down.

There was a momentary pause until: “Follow me.”

Stiles scrambled to his feet and hurriedly followed the headmistress. He wasn't sure what she was going to do with him, but he figured that he might as well not displease her any further. She click-clacked all the way to her office and held the door open for Stiles. He went inside and she immediately shut the door and got all up in his face.

“What are you, Stilinski? Because you certainly aren't human. There's something that you haven't told us...”

Stiles gulped rather loudly. “It's not that I haven't _told_ you, it's more like nobody’s asked...”

“Stilinski! Tell me whatever it is that you're hiding!”

“Uhm... I might not be exactly strictly human?”

Headmistress Ravena scrutinized him before sitting down in the chair behind her desk. “Sit down, Little Wolf.”

Stiles sat in one of the proffered chairs, pretty much terrified. _Oh my god, what if she kicks me out? I can't go back home... I can't go back to Dad and... Derek, that asshole. I don't know what I'll do!_

“So. Talk.”

“What about?” Stiles asked.

“Earlier, you mentioned that you 'aren't strictly human'. You didn't elaborate on what that meant, and I had more pressing matters to deal with. Now, my schedule is cleared, and I'd like to know what you meant by that comment. Care to explain?” The way the Cold Lady asked the question, Stiles knew that he had no option _but_ to explain.

“Well... Uhm... I was turned. Sorta.” Stiles mumbled helplessly.

The Cold Lady raised an eyebrow and Stiles flushed before continuing. “My hometown is a little town in California called Beacon Hills. Nothing interesting ever happened there. But one night in my sophomore year of high school, there was a murder. There was a woman, Laura, and... she'd been torn in two.The police had only found half of her body. I convinced my best friend, Scott, to go out with me in the middle of the night to find the other half. And... we found it. Scott got bitten, we didn't know what by. I found out it was a werewolf. It turned out, he was bitten by a rogue werewolf, who was actually completely psycho. He was the one who'd killed Laura. We ended up getting dragged into the massive mess with murder and mystery and rogue alphas and an Alpha pack and you know the rest. My pack and I... we've been working as the Beacon Hills Supernatural Crime Fighters... I even made t-shirts that said that on them.

“Anyway, about six months ago, we had a pixie infestation. I wasn't actually told about it, because unbeknownst to me, I'm not actually pack. I'm just considered a nuisance by everyone there, that was one of the reasons why I chose to come to this school, seeing as I was accepted into a lot of places. What was I saying?” Stiles paused and tapped his chin for a moment. “Oh yeah! There was a pixie infestation, nobody told me, I found out later. I still didn't know any of the details. One day, I was out and saw a pixie on the road. I thought it was a child who'd been hit, and as the Sheriff's son, other people's safety comes first. I got out and it... infected me. I've been changed ever since.

“I talked to my town's... well, Deaton. He doesn't know what's wrong with me. Nobody does. I've been moody and crazy and my eyes turn black and I have fangs and super strength and a bwca wanted to mate with me and I killed it with a very sharp knife and... I'm just so very confused, Headmistress.”

She looked at him. “I see.” She shuffled some papers around on her desk and wrote some things down before handing some papers to Stiles. “Here's your new schedule.”

He looked at her incredulously. “My new schedule? What? I thought you were going to kick me out!”

“Unless you'd like that, Mr. Stilinski, I think that you just need a schedule change. We very well can't have you in the classes you're in.”

Stiles took the papers and left in a daze, thrilled to have not been expelled, but still very, very confused.  

Stiles walked back into his room and sat on his bed with his face in his hands, swinging his feet in slow circles. _Oh, geez. What have I done? Is this going to be horrendous for me now?_

“What have you done?” Seth asked, bursting into the room. Stiles rolled his eyes. “I mean, come on, you've been here for less than 48 hours and you've already gotten into trouble. That's a new record!”

“Shuddup...” Stiles growled. He was already upset, he didn't need Seth the stupid fairy being a dick and making things worse.

Seth looked at Stiles and giggled. “You're flippin' adorable, you know that, Little Wolf?”

“Shut up! Don't call me that, that's NOT my name!” _Oh, geez... I sound like The Ting Tings... I can't even._

Seth plopped down on the bed next to Stiles, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. Stiles turned to look at him with horror and Seth grabbed the back of Stiles' neck and kissed him straight on the mouth, licking the seam of his lips as Stiles struggled in surprise. _Wait, struggle... Why am I struggling? This feels really nice... And that's Seth's hand on my leg... I don't see why I shouldn't be kissing him... I'm attracted to him, because he's really freaking hot, and his hand is traveling up my leg and I don't have any ties to anybody else, and I just really like the way his tongue is in my mouth and_ “Oh!”

Seth had grabbed Stiles' hip and pulled Stiles on top of him, demandinghothard. He began to kiss and lick his way down Stiles' throat and Stiles tipped his head back, brain fogged up. He felt like there was some reason why this was a bad idea, but he couldn't think of it. The only things he could think about were the hot slide of Seth's hands up his shirt, brushing his nipple and sending a twinge straight to his dick and the sloppy heat of his mouth sucking a hickey into his collarbone and the way his teeth scraped delicately at Stiles' skin and the silky feel of his blond hair slipping through Stiles' fingers and fuck!

Seth pulled off Stiles' shirt and then rolled him over onto his back in one quick move with Seth on top of him, grinding a knee between Stiles' legs and he was ridiculously hard and Seth was nibbling and licking his way down Stiles' chest and his pants came undone and suddenly there was a hot wet mouth on his dick. Stiles groaned loudly, threading his fingers through Seth's hair and thrusting upward, trying really desperately not to come but hey, it was really difficult because of how _hot_ Seth was. Seth chuckled and sucked really hard, slipping a hand between Stiles' legs and pressing up against him and-

Stiles groaned really loudly and came so hard the world fuzzed around him. Seth pressed a kiss to his throat before looking at him expectantly. “Well, aren't you going to return the favor?”

Stiles groaned and crawled down the bed, hastily undoing Seth's pants and getting to work. He hadn't done this... well, ever, but he'd watched enough porn to pretty much know what was going on. Kinda. Seth pushed his hand against the top of Stiles' head and he gagged slightly, unused to putting anything like this in his mouth before but hey, returning the favor (and the flavor). Stiles' mouth quickly became sore but he figured that he'd keep going and then just... not really do it again. Or do it a lot for practice.

Suddenly, Seth groaned loudly and thrust up into his mouth and came, hot salty bitterness coating the inside of his mouth and his throat. Stiles gagged horribly, nearly throwing up the contents of his stomach. Instead, he ran to the bathroom and spit into the toilet, spit until his mouth was bone-dry. Then, he ran tap water into his hands and drank, rinsing out that horrible taste.

Stiles walked back into the bedroom area to see Seth lounging on his bed. “How do you _swallow_?”

Seth laughed. “You're forgetting that I'm an incubus, honey. I live off of sex. That includes semen. I don't mind the taste of it... especially not yours.” He winked lasciviously at Stiles and Stiles felt kind of dirty.

“Uh... yeah. Anyway, what was that all about?”

Seth shrugged. “I don't know. I was just a bit... hungry... and you're really quite delightful.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“That was fun. We should do it again sometime,” Seth said with a smile.

“Erm, alright… Just tell me in the future instead of just immediately jumping my bones,” Stiles said with a slight cough. _First blowjob, first blowjob, victory!!_ He blushed a little bit at Seth’s smile.

“Agreed.”


	13. Perfectly Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on page 127 of the Teen Wolf schtuff.  
> Which doesn't seem like a big deal, but that means that I'm in the top 2528 works. Which also doesn't seem like a big deal, but lets consider this: There are 42,713 Teen Wolf works.  
> If you do the math, that means that I'm in the top 6% of all the Teen Wolf works on AO3. :feels pretty smug:  
> I love you guys.

**Perfectly Lonely**

Stiles looked down at the envelope in his hands. It was an envelope... A letter. His name and address was typed: so was the return address. He looked at the top left corner- if was from Beacon Hills.... Home. It was a letter from _home_! His dad must have already written him, which excited Stiles to no end. He wasn't expecting a letter from his dad for at least a week.

He tore open the envelope eagerly and looked inside: it was a single sheaf of white printer paper. There were only a few handwritten words on it in a scrawl that he didn't actually recognize.

 

**Come home. Do it now. School doesn't matter, pack does.**

  


Stiles read it quickly and nearly threw up. It was from Derek freaking Hale, and he was demanding that he come home. Stiles methodically began to tear the letter, eyes bleeding black as he grew more and more angry about the fact that Derek had written him a freaking letter just to boss him around.

Stiles finished tearing up the letter and threw it into the wastebasket, spitting into the trashcan after it, which he figured was more than the letter deserved.

He was so mad.

He was so mad, in fact, that he could've sworn that steam was coming out of his ears. He knew that he was definitely close to losing control. Stiles stormed out of his room, pushing Seth out of the way as he was about to come back in. Seth looked at him in confusion. “What's wrong with you?”

Stiles ignored him as he continued down the hallway. He figured that he might as well go to the gym, work off this anger, blow some steam. It'd be better than letting it all build up and drive him crazy, which was what was happening. He knew that his fangs were showing, they were biting into his lips and blood was coating his mouth and he was craving fresh raw meat, the thought of blood spurting out and squirting into his mouth and a writhing animal underneath turning him on a tiny bit.

The part of him that was still pure Stiles was completely ashamed and horrified by the rest of him, by his brain and thought process, but the not!Stiles wanted something fresh and bleeding beneath him. He controlled himself, though, and continued into the gym, where he threw on some workout clothes and then threw himself at the punching bags, beating them until his hands hurt and his knuckles were open and dripping blood onto the concrete below.

He turned and kicked the wall, grunting in anger. He was still full-blown angry; the only thing he'd succeeded in doing had been to destroy his knuckles.

He still wanted to kill something.

No, not something. Someone. He wanted to kill Derek. He wanted to jump on top of him and tear into his throat with his teeth and shred his skin with his claws and _claim_ him as his own and...

Not!Stiles paused in his internal rampage as Stiles shrieked out loud. “No, nonononono!”

He realized that he'd just thought about _claiming_ Derek... Not just that, he thought of _Derek_ claiming _him_. He didn't want Derek to claim him. He didn't want to be claimed at all, but certainly not by _Derek_. He just wanted to be left alone, left to his own devices where he could do what he wanted and not think about stupid Beacon Hills and stupid pack and his best friend leaving him for a girl and his Alpha kissing him just to make him stay. He didn't want to think about anything except for his anger, which was kind of now half lust, which disturbed him and intrigued him.

Stiles sat down and cleared his head of everything but breathing. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out._

He was having a panic attack. It had been his first one since he'd turned spriggan, since he'd started to have all the shitty problems that he'd been having because of the stupid pack and everything going on with them. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was kind of in love with stupid freaking Derek Hale and that he had been since the first time he'd seen him, glaring and growling at him and Scott when they were out there on that dark night all those years ago.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he'd wanted Derek for so long, that the reason that he was so okay with goddamn werewolves was because he _knew_ that Derek was one, and since Scott was one, too, he knew that he'd be able to get closer to Derek.

But Derek didn't care about him.

Derek didn't care about him at all. Derek didn't care about anybody but himself. He barely even cared about his pack, which Stiles was definitely _not a part of._ He flashed back into those hateful moments, where words were thrown at Stiles that he went home and cried over later:

“ _Pack? You really think that_ you’re pack? _As if anyone would want_ you _in the pack, Stiles. The only thing you’re good for is researching and getting in the way. There’s a reason nobody’s been telling you about the pack meetings. I didn’t want to lie, but Derek told us that we had to. I would’ve much rather told you the truth: nobody wants you. Now leave.”_

_“You’re not part of this anyway, and the rest of the pack and the Argents can handle it.”_

_“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay away from the pack.”_

_“We don’t need to protect a weak human, okay? So just leave us to do the work like usual.”_

_“Stiles. We don’t need or desire your help, okay? Sorry to break it to you.”_

Stiles thought back on all the hurtful things that he'd been told. _Why do they want me now? I'm not pack... They never wanted me before..._

He grew bitterly sad and his fangs receded, still leaving the taste of blood in his mouth and cold revenge in his heart, but killing the bloodlust that had washed over him. He hurt. He hurt so much, he could barely think, barely breathe.

All he wanted to do was go jump off a bridge or something.

Obviously, he wasn't suicidal, because he had no plans to actually go jump off of a bridge, but sometimes.... Sometimes there were just moments when he figured that it wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn't alive.... if he wasn't there.

Stiles sighed loudly and closed his eyes, shaking the excess blood off of his hands. 


	14. Lightning Strikes Inside My Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this was rather sudden and unexpected. Also, this chapter is weird, but I just... needed to get out here already. Ugh, y'know? 
> 
> ANYWAY! :D I've gotten 1800 (one THOUSAND eight HUNDRED!!!) hits since I last posted. Holy shit, you guys. You're so amazing <3

**Lightning Strikes Inside My Chest**  
  
  


Stiles sniffed at the paper in front of him before quickly filling out every answer on the test. This was supposed to be one of the most difficult tests that he'd be taking in this class all semester. The test maker was completely idiotic and should be shot. This was literally one of the easiest tests he'd ever taken. Stiles was pretty sure that in the school's realization that although he used to be human, he wasn't actually, and thus they were treating him like an idiot.

He'd just gone through a bunch of stupidly easy classes. All of the classes that he'd been taking when he was considered 'just human' had been challenging and actually _fun,_ even though they made his brain hurt and his hands cramp from writing and he couldn't focus. At least he'd learned _something._ But Stiles had been in these new classes for two months and he hadn't learned a single damn thing.  
He'd taught himself _everything_ that he'd learned while he was still in Beacon Hills... Honestly, this college was tiring him. He was bored of it, he was bored of these classes, he was bored of everything about it. He was also tired of getting letters from Derek, telling him to come home. They had gone from demanding to pleading and pathetic, but Stiles wasn't willing to budge. He was, however, considering leaving this school. There were actually several good reasons behind that idea: he could actually start taking _challenging_ classes somewhere else, or learn things firsthand, and he'd get away from these _stupid_ letters from Derek that kind of made him want to cry a little bit. Obviously, though, Stiles would never admit that.

Derek didn't affect him. Derek didn't control him. Derek had made it explicitly clear how he had felt about Stiles... sorta. Stiles struggled with his thoughts. He knew that he and Derek had left on a bad note, after Derek had kissed him and all, but...he'd started having the thoughts that maybe, just _maybe,_ Derek hadn't kissed him to get him to stay. Maybe Derek had kissed him because he had feelings for him. And Stiles might've just fucked up two years of hoping and praying and wishing and dreaming and scheming for Derek to become his lover because he was throwing a fit.

Stiles understood his reasonings: he'd been practically possessed, claimed by a scary beast, and scared shitless, and nobody in the pack seemed to care. But...what if they _did_ care? What if Stiles had been reading everything wrong? What if...What if they still cared? What if they were in danger? What if Derek _actually_ needed Stiles to come home to help them with something, because there was something bad, something like the Alpha Pack, or the Darach and Stiles just wasn't there to help?

Stiles choked and dropped his pencil to the floor. He couldnt cope with these thoughts, he couldn't breathe or think or anything. He needed... He needed to get out. He needed to leave, he needed to _not be here._ And so he stood up and strode out of the classroom, ignoring everything that the professor was yelling after him.

He went into his room and began pulling out his bags, getting all of his stuff. He needed to go home, he needed to go see his _pack._ Stiles whined a tiny bit and a tear slipped out, he wasn't sure what was going on, but he had this desperate feeling. He began to pack even more frantically, throwing things around the room as he searched for all of his belongings. They were mixed up with Seth's, because they'd been living and sleeping and eating and fucking _breathing_ beside and with each other since Stiles had gotten there, so _of course_ their stuff had gotten mixed up.

Seth burst into the room, taking one look at Stiles before tackling him to the floor, sitting on him. “No! You're not leaving!”

“Why the fuck not?” Stiles spat out, struggling with Seth. He tried to flip Seth off of him, but Seth quickly grabbed his wrists.

“Because I said so! I don't want you to leave, dammit!” Seth said, looking away from Stiles. Stiles paused his struggle as he saw Seth's eyes glint.

“Are you... _crying?”_ Stiles asked incredulously. He'd never seen Seth be anything but happy go lucky, horny, or bitchy.

“ _Yes,_ I'm _crying,_ you stupid fucktard!” Seth yelled, hitting Stiles in the chest as a tear slipped out. “I don't want you to fucking leave, okay? I want you stay because I fucking love you and your idiotic face and your stupid gestures and the way you breathe when you sleep and how much you talk and everything you fucking do!”

“What?” Stiles looked up at him, absolutely stunned. He had had no clue Seth felt like this about him... He'd thought this entire time that they were just friends with benefits. He didnt' know that Seth had invested feelings in him... “But... Seth, I have to go. I can't be here any longer...”

Seth bit his lip. “Take me, then. Please. Go anywhere but Beacon Hills, and take me with you so I can just stay with you longer...”

Stiles paused, thought, nodded. “Yeah... I'll take you with me. We can travel, and explore, and discover. Like... Marco Polo and his servant or something.”

Seth let out a watery chuckle and got to his feet. “You're going to be a terrible servant.” Stiles rolled his eyes and slapped Seth's ankle lightly before standing himself. The two began to clean up the mess that Stiles had caused, packing neatly as they went.

When they were finished, they walked down to the Cold Lady's office. Stiles rapped on here door lightly before opening it and walking in. He saw her sitting at her desk and she seemed shocked to see him. “Hey, uh... I'm leaving.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, I... I'm having issues here. So, me and Seth, we're going to leave. Figure out new stuff to do. Y'know, more college-y stuff that isn't really college-y..” Stiles said with a nervous chuckle.

The Headmistress looked up at him with a cool glare. “I cannot say that I”m surprised whatsoever. However, you may go ahead and do whatever you like. I hope you know that you won't retain the scholarship if you leave, though.”

Stiles nodded soberly at that. “Yeah, I get that. And... that's okay. I can figure it out. I just... need to find myself, control myself, _ground_ myself before I attempt this whole college thing, you know?”

The Cold Lady looked at him a moment before nodding. “Close the door behind you.”

Stiles and Seth grinned and backed out of the room, closing both the door and that chapter of their lives.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Impossible to Find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys... So, I got a lot of really negaitive feedback on the last chapter. Hopefully you don't absolutely hate me for that, but this chapter totally clears up all the weird shit that went down last chapter. That's why I updated so fact, and made this chapter so much longer than usual.... to make up for the fact that i totally mindfucked you guys, poor babies...
> 
> Another note: all of the plants which Stiles uses are actually used for spells which cause drifting with the mind and all that jazz, like really cool stuff where you leave your body and can go other places. I found all that information on a couple of wiccan sites, so I'm hoping it's accurate. I did research!

Stiles sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. “What the actual _fuck?_ ” He groaned loudly, throwing Seth's arm off of him and stumbling to his feet and into the bathroom. “Ugh, what the fuck was that...” He splashed some cold water onto his face, then stared at his pale face in the mirror. It looked normal... He felt normal, sorta. That entire dream had really thrown him off, though. Why on _earth_ had he dreamt about going back to Beacon Hills? The only thing for him there was his dad.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face. He'd really only been here, at this school, for about two weeks, even if he dreamed that he'd been here for months. His classes were all fucking fantastic, and really cool; much better than the previous ones he'd taken. Stiles was very confused about where that strange dream had come from. He kinda shrugged it off, though, figuring that he'd discover later. Even if he didn't, it didn't really matter. It was a stupid _dream._

 

He rubbed his chest a little bit where there were still sharp pangs of emotion running through his heart and stomach before turning and walking back into the bedroom. He'd been sharing a bed with Seth, who couldn't stand all the tossing and turning that Stiles did, and thus spooned him practically to death. Stiles crawled back into bed and Seth threw his arm around Stiles' waist, snuffling into his back. “What were you doing up?” Seth sleepily mumbled, eyelashes flicking against Stiles' skin.

 

“I had this weird dream.. It woke me.” Stiles explained, wiggling backward into Seth's embrace, already half-asleep.

 

“What was it about?”

 

“Uhm... I'm kinda starting to forget, I think? But the classes here, I hated them. And there... were letters? From Derek. And I was going to go to Beacon Hills. And then you were in love with me. And came with me. It was weird,” Stiles mumbled.

 

Seth burst into laughter. “Oh, honey. I might love this,” he reached forward and firmly grabbed Stiles' crotch, “But... I don't have a big emotional attachment toward you. I just want the D, not the relationship. I'm an incubus, we don't do love. Just sex.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You think I don't know that? Dumbass...” he scoffed.

 

Seth grinned, pressing a kiss into Stiles' neck. “Well... we coud have some crazy hot sex right now. We've never actually gone all the way...”

 

Stiles grabbed his pillow and smacked Seth in the face with it. “Shut up, I'm trying to sleep.”

 

  


 

  


 

Stiles yawned and sat up, stretching and getting to his feet. He picked his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the bathroom as he stared in the mirror again. He was recollecting that stupid-ass dream from last night... Why on earth had he had it? He had no desire to go back to Beacon Hills, but... there was this tiny part of him that was saying he should. It wasn't his regular self, though, it was... weird. It almost felt as if someone had opened up his head and crammed foreign emotions into his head.

 

Stiles head snapped up and he gasped. “Holy shit...”

 

“What?” Seth said, yawning sleepily. He was _not_ a morning person.

 

“I think... I think someone might've put a spell on me,” Stiles said, looking drawing an x in the steamed-up mirror.

 

“What? What do you mean, a spell on you?” Seth was instantly awake and straining, alarm visible on his face.

 

“Well, do you remember how I had a weird dream last night? I was just thinking about it, and... It doesn't feel right. There's these emotions in my head that feel like they've been transplanted there. I think that I'm going to go talk to one of my professors about it, see if it's possible...” Stiles trailed off, looking over at Seth, who was biting his lip thoughtfully.

 

“That's actually totally possible. I've heard of some sorta thing like that, like... scrying or something? Figure it out, because that's creepy. And also, I don't want you leaving and going back to your bag of dicks pack. The blowjobs and stuff between us is great and all, but I don't really want you leaving before I steal your virginity. Not to mention, I kind of enjoy your company.”

 

Stiles let out a crow of laughter. “Aha! The playboy asshole _does_ have a heart!”

 

Seth punched him in the arm before storming out of the bathroom. “Take a fucking shower, you fucktard!” Stiles snickered at how red his face and ears were as he stripped and got into the shower.

 

He quickly went through his morning routine, stopping to grab a bite to eat before heading to the magic department/wing of the castle. He was going to talk to Professor Kirk. Stiles knocked on the professor's office door softly before walking in.

 

“Stiles? What are you doing here so early? You're in my Basic Magic class, right? That doesn't start until way later. Unless, of course, you had a question to ask me?” Stiles pasted on a slight smile. He'd forgotten that Professor Kirk generally ended every sentence with a question when he wasn't teaching a lecture.

 

“Uhm, yeah. I actually did have a question for you. _Do_ have a question for you. It's kind of important.”

 

“What is it?” Kirk said, steepling his fingers and gazing at Stiles steadily.

 

“So... I used to be part of a wolf pack, back in California where I lived. And... they all want me to come back. However, they explicitly stated that they didn't want me there, and to leave, so I did. But the Alpha, Derek, he's been sending me letters telling me to come back home. And last night, I had this weird dream that I hated school here- which is obviously not true, I really love it here- and that I wanted to go back to Beacon Hills desperately. And when I woke up this morning, I still sort of had those feelings. I'm still feeling it a little bit right now, but it's not _right._ It feels like someone is forcing these emotions on me, like Stockholm Syndrome or something. But not that drastic, obviously, because it's not like I've been _kidnapped_ or anything. But the fact that I'm having these bizarre thoughts. Does it sound weird to you, or do you think it was just a run of the mill dream?”

 

Kirk looked at Stiles without saying anything for a few minutes before looking away. “I think... perhaps someone has tried to lay a compulsion spell on you. Most people are most susceptible in their sleep, and so that's the best time to lay a spell like that. It seems like your Alpha wants you to go back very much. Do you perhaps, think, that there was a genuine misunderstanding and that you weren't kicked out of the pack at all?”

 

Stiles shook his head tightly. “No, I don't. But that's another part of the dream! I started having these thoughts, _while I was dreaming,_ that I was wrong and that it had just been a misunderstanding! That everyone still wanted me in the pack, and that everything was all good! I don't know what to think about it... This compulsion spell, can I do anything to fight back against it?”

 

“Well, first we'd have to do a scrying spell to figure out who cast the spell and what their motives are. Once we determine their power level, we can figure out what measures we must take to get rid of it. It helps that you are fae, because that gives you quite a bit of immunity. If you'd still been fully human, you would've already been gone by now,” Kirk said, getting to his feet. He opened a cabinet and began to rummage around in it, pulling out a couple of jars and bags, a silver bowl, and finally a mirror.

 

“I want you to do this spell, okay? You're magic power is shockingly strong. I think that you might have already had something lying dormant which was amplified by your fae blood. But scrying spells work best when the person who is scrying is the one involved. You might recognize whoever has cast this spell.”

 

“Yeah, I was told.. I was told that I'm a spark? And I practiced some back home with that, mountain ash and stuff...”

 

“Oh, good. Anyway, I want you to mix together these things. You'll get this feeling in your gut about how much to add of what, okay?”

 

Stiles nodded and pulled the silver bowl toward him, hand reaching out. He pulled a plant with puffy-ish white flowers towards him, then what he _knew_ to be some sort of toxic plant, celery, and mugwort. He tore up the leaves and flowers, placed them in the silver bowl, then sat for a moment. He stirred them counterclockwise once, twice, with his index finger before pouring river water into the mixture and stirring the paste again clockwise.

 

“You're using angelica and belladonna? Interesting choices...” Kirk said.

 

Stiles ignored Kirk, pulling the mirror toward him and painting a symbol onto the mirror with the paste. He waited a moment, paused, closed his eyes.

 

When he opened his eyes, the paste was gone and the mirror was shimmering, a scene forming onto the surface. The picture cleared up and Stiles could see into Derek's living room. The entire pack was there... Sound came through a moment later and he could hear Lydia's voice.

 

“I don't know what went wrong, okay? It was supposed to work!”

 

“Do you think that it might not've been laid down strongly enough?” Derek asked after a moment, looking around thoughtfully.

 

Lydia looked stricken. “I don't think I have enough power to _make_ it any stronger. That level should've had him home by now, I don't know what went wrong. I know that it did take, though, because I'm still attached to the spell. It's still taking my energy...”

 

“I feel like... he's fighting it. Because Stiles is damn loyal, right? But he was really hurt. Certain people really, _really_ hurt him. I was one of them, and Stiles is my best friend. So I know... Stiles doesn't want to come home. I think he'll come back when he's ready. We shouldn't try to trap him into it, you guys know I was against this from the start,” Scott said, picking at his fingernails.

 

“Yeah, but... we need him. _I_ need him. I don't think he realized... Dammit, I can't... this is actually happ... I really had feel...” The sound was distorting and blurring and Stiles couldn't see or hear anything anymore and he pulled back and gasped.

 

Professor Kirk was staring at him. “Did you find out what it was?”

 

“Yeah.. I did... I need a way to tell them to leave me alone...” Stiles said, looking down at his hands. He didn't know that Scott cared about him still. Maybe Stiles had been quick to get rid of his bee-eff-eff....

 


	16. Swing, Swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys. It has been way to damn long since I last updated, and I am so sorry for that. My laptop fried and I have much less computer time than I used to, and I apologize for that, as well. My finals are coming up and they're stressing me out SO MUCH, but... I really needed to write at least a little bit for you guys, my loyal readers. Thanks for this.   
> I'll write again soon, but I felt like you guys deserved even just a tidbit of the world through Stiles' eyes.   
> Love you all!   
> (I have nearly 12000 hits, you guys!!!!)

Stiles had spent the last few months running around like a headless chicken. He had been stressed to the point of tears, stressed to the point of epic melt-downs, stressed to the point of no sex with Seth. He’d been pretty damn stressed.

For the most part, he’d been able to ignore the compulsion spell that Lydia had placed on him. Every now and then, he would have dreams that made him ache inside, ache enough that he burned to go back to Beacon Hills. He knew, however, that it was a lie and so he ignored those feelings. It hurt to do that, but he knew that it was better than the alternative: give in to the feelings, go back to Beacon Hills, and be told he wasn't wanted again. Or, even worse, be used, chewed up, and spit back out, to be left alone. Stiles was terrified of being alone. He didn't tell people, but it was one of his biggest fears. He needed people. He needed people around him, he needed to talk to people, and being alone made his chest tighten up and made it difficult to breathe. He couldn't deal with that, nor did he want to. 

He had spent nearly all of his time lately either in class or in the library studying. Final exams were upon him and it was freaking Stiles the fuck out because he was not prepared for them and it was simply not okay. He had only been at the school for four months, he was nowhere close to ready to it being halfway over. Even though most of his problems had stopped being in the real world and had converted to fantasy elements, money was still a thing, and he didn’t have very much left.

And so he studied harder than he had in his entire life, studied harder than he had his last two years of high school when he made valedictorian. He studied so damn hard that he thought his brain would burst, and before he knew it, finals were upon him. They sucked.


	17. It's All Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE IS THE LONG AWAITED CHAPTER!! I made it extra long because you guys waited so goddamn long for this.  
> I hope you enjoy it and yeah. 
> 
> Also, if any of you, my dear readers, practice any sort of magic or have any knowledge of that, would you mind shooting me a few messages if you spot anything glaringly wrong or have any advice or ideas? I did a lot of research (from like, 10 different sources) so that I could make this as accurate as possible to Wicca whilst still keeping it within my story, and yeah. 
> 
> If any of you have any ideas or thoughts you want to share, I'll try incorporating them into the story.  
> This chapter is dedicated to:  
> LuciLucifer for kicking my ass into gear and being a faithful reader since the beginning,  
> kahless1 for leaving me a lovely comment,  
> dammitbilinski for amusing me,  
> Lidil for commenting on and reading more than one story,  
> and ticklemekink for giving me a grand idea.  
> Alright, loves. Hopefully you'll like this.
> 
> my tumblr: 100klicksaway.tumblr.com 
> 
> love and cuddles

Stiles leaned back in his chair and groaned. “I am so fucking done, okay?”

“Shh!” Seth whispered, glaring at him. “Just because you’re done with your exams doesn’t mean I am! I still have two left, and they’re literally my hardest exams.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said sheepishly. He sat back upright in his chair before pushing it out from beneath him and stretching. “I’m going to go get a drink, do you want anything?”

“No thanks, but thanks for asking,” Seth said distractedly, nose inches away from the paper he was scrawling on. Stiles smiled down at him fondly before picking his way out of the library and blinking in the bright sunlight.

He’d forgotten how cold it was outside, seeing as the library was warm, but. It was _cold_. As in, Stiles thought his balls might drop off, cold. He shivered and began to speed walk to one of the on-campus coffee shops. It wasn’t the closest one, but it was the only one which served tea. Since Stiles had turned, he’d become more sensitive to things. More sensitive to the cold, more sensitive to taste and smell, more sensitive to noise. He was more sensitive to pretty much everything, which was nice at times (super hearing and smell, all that good stuff) but also irritating at times (super hearing and smell, all that good stuff). He couldn’t stand the taste of coffee anymore, but he loved herbal teas. Black teas were tolerable if they were sweet. While at the coffee shop, Stiles bought a wonderful orange spice and rose hip tea and decided to head to the magic wing rather than back to the library. He was sick of being in the library, he’d spent so much time studying in there the past few weeks.

Stiles was mostly just happy that his exams were over.  Seth’s weren’t, which was why he was studying so hard. Stiles was mostly focused on learning more magic. He had decided with the rest of his professors that he was capable of becoming a mage, and so he figured he should because that was pretty fucking cool. Therefore, he was studying his ass off and learning all these new spells and herbs and runes. He actually had a test coming up which would show which type of mage he leant towards most/was best suited for. There were the three main types, which were incantors, herbalists, and erilaz’.

Stiles hadn’t known any of this information when he started, but he was learning now. The herbalists tended to be the weakest and most common type of mage since one barely needed a spark to be an herbalist. Herbalists were especially weak because they focused on the plants they were using to transmit the spell and if the plants ran out, so did the spell. They couldn’t do any magic at all without the necessary plants. There also tended to be a lot of physical toll with the spells they used and a lot of their energy was eaten up with their spells, so they could only do a few at a time.

The incantors were the middle group of mage, much less common than herbalists and more powerful. They had vocal spells, either written or spoken. Some incantors solely wrote things down and used their thoughts to make the spells occur, but that was far less common than those who had to vocalize the spells. Most incantors had a crutch, similar to the herbalists’. The incantors’ crutch was a wand or staff of some sort, which was used to focus the magic. However, if the incantor’s wand/staff was broken, then they couldn’t focus their magic, therefore they couldn’t cast spells. If they cast spells without a staff/wand, there was no way of knowing where the spell would go or who it would affect. Very few incantors could cast spells without a staff or a wand.

The third type of mage were the erilaz, and they were the least common and most powerful. There were only a handful of erilaz alive at the same period of time. While some mages could work up from herbalists to incantors, very few could work up from incantors to erilaz. The erilaz used runes to create spells, either drawn out or envisioned or tattooed onto their bodies. Because they could use the runes in any form they wished as well as both herbal spells and incantations, the erilaz had pretty much limitless force and power.

Stiles desperately wanted to be an erilaz.

It was the obvious choice for anyone, really, or at least Stiles felt that way. So, he’d been studying desperately in the hopes of passing the test to be able to become an erilaz. He had no clue what the test was like-he wasn’t _allowed_ to know- but he figured that it’d be better to be over-prepared, or at least slightly prepared, then to not be prepared at all.

He’d also been working on learning how to break the compulsion spell which Lydia had laid on him. He finally found a source which told him of a way to break one. It didn’t guarantee that it would work, but. Stiles figured he could at least try it. He’d received two more letters from the pack, both getting more and more desperate (he didn’t respond to either). He was sick of feeling like he needed to go help them, so he needed to break this stupid hex that Lydia had placed on him.

So, he got to work. He gathered what he knew he would need to break the compulsion spell, which took a lot of time and a bit of money. He had to buy virgin sheepskin parchment. Apparently, it’s difficult to keep sheep virgins. The rest of the ingredients he needed were fortunately much easier to find and much less expensive. He needed mint, ague, chamomile flowers, and asofoetida. Most of them were for the actual spell breaking, but he brought along the asoetida just in case for protection while casting the spell.

Stiles sat in one of the small rooms that was a branch of the magic wing made especially for practicing spells. It was sound proof and had a spell cast on it which prevented magic from leaking out of the room, which was awesome in case a spell went awry (which happened often enough).

Stiles pulled a silver bowl out of one of the desk drawers. He poured a bit of olive oil into the bowl to anoint and cleanse it before pulling the container of mint leaves out of his bag. He had torn and crushed them so that they were a paste, but now he needed to mix them with more olive oil so as to create a highly concentrated mint oil. He mixed the mint paste and the olive oil together with a stirring stick made out of birch (the birch for added protection) before mixing in the crushed ague and asofoetida. After stirring the oil mixture together, he laid the birch stick down and dipped the chamomile flowers into the mixture and brushed some onto his forehead, the bridge of his nose, on his eyelids, the backs of his hands, and the back of his neck.

He then closed his eyes and waited for the spell to take effect, willing it the entire time. He remembered Deaton telling him that he had to believe for a spell to work, which was one of the most important things he ever learned in Beacon Hills.

So Stiles sat and believed that this spell would work and after a moment, he felt a tingling in the back of his mind that he had come to recognize as his spark. He let his eyes open, fighting against the dark part of him which always wanted to take control while he was casting spells. Stiles reached forward and grabbed the sheepskin parchment which he’d set aside earlier and a needle, pulling them both towards him. With a gasp, he pricked his finger with the needle, hard enough to draw blood. Closing his eyes, he willed words to appear on the paper. His hand twinged and began to ache and he opened his eyes to see the parchment soaked in blood.

“What? Fuck, no! That’s not what I was-fuck- no, fuck!” Stiles panicked because the spell wasn’t going the way it was supposed to and he hadn’t actually gotten permission to do it. Meaning, nobody knew he was in here. Stiles groaned and reached for the parchment, only to see the blood beginning to slide around on the page. Places in the parchment began to clear and to form words.

After a moment, the parchment was filled with words and only a few errant blood spatters which refused to budge. Stiles leant forward and began to read the words on the parchment.

**  
**

_Most of my anger is directed towards you, Derek. You hurt me, and betrayed me. You knew how I felt about you-my crush was obvious- and you turned that against me. I’m also angry with you, Lydia, for placing this compulsion spell on me in the first place. You didn’t have to do it, but you chose to. You chose to partake in dark magic, so you have no one to blame but yourself. I blame you for that. I’m angry with you, Scott, for not being there for me when I needed you. I’m angry with you, Isaac, for driving me away. You might think that none of you have done anything wrong, but you have. Derek, you kissed me in the hopes of making me stay so I could continue to be your, what, researcher? And that pisses me off. Lydia, you know why I’m mad at you. I’m also angry with you because you’re an egotistical insensitive bitch. Scott, I’m mad at you, not for what you said or did, but for what you didn’t say or do. You didn’t do anything, and that’s as bad as if you’d joined in. And Isaac? You were the worst of all. You told me things like, “you’re not pack” and “you don’t belong here” and you crushed any sense of security or confidence that I had because you were fucking jealous. I don’t know why you were jealous, Erica didn’t say, but you were._

_And now I’m done with you. I’m done with you all._

_Don’t bother contacting me again, I’m happy here. If you care about me at all, you should care about that._

Stiles read the letter with satisfaction. It may not have been the way he’d have written it if he’d planned it, but they were his thoughts, and the spell chose which thoughts were put down. He knew that it would work at this point, which made him happy.

Stiles placed a few drops of a tincture of calamus and licorice onto the line about not contacting him to prevent them from doing contacting him easily and placed a sprig of birch onto the letter before folding it into neat thirds and sliding it into an envelope. He’d mail this to the pack and the compulsion spell would be broken the minute it entered Beacon Hills. He knew it would get there because it was magic, but he put the birch there just in case to help it find it’s way.

Stiles dropped the letter into a mailbox and turned away, and with that, he turned his back on his life in Beacon Hills. **  
**


	18. Cool Dry Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.   
> This is ridiculous, I am so sorry. I've been suffering a severe case of writer's block and non-wanting-to-write-fanfiction-because-I'm-too-dead-from-school-itis. I think I'm better now, though.   
> A short chapter for you, my loves, but here it is. I'm working on the next one and hopefully you will like it.   
> I love you all.

Cool Dry Place

Stiles nibbled a piece of toast nervously, barely tasting it. It felt dry and sandy in his mouth and he decided that he was finished with it after a few mouthfuls. He placed the toast down and began to pick at his nails, biting the free edge and tearing a bit. He was rather disgusted with himself but he couldn't help it, he was too goddamn nervous to sit still and fidgeting was what he immediately went to. Stiles let out a deep sigh and lowered a hand to his chest, rubbing at a bit.

He was trying to not be so nervous, but it wasn't working very well.

He was terrified.

With a huge intake of air, Stiles pounced on the object in front of him and quickly punched in a code before bringing a piece up to his ear. His heart began to race.

_Thump_

_Tha-thump_

_Tha-thump_

_Tha-thump tha-thump_

_thathump thathump thathump_

_thathumpthatthumpthathumpthathumptha-_

_“Hello? This is John Stilinski speaking.”_

Stiles squeaked and nearly slammed the phone back down, but some tight restraint kept him in line. He stayed quiet, listening to his dad’s breathing.

_“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

Stiles began to breathe heavily, making little sighs into the phone. He heard his dad sigh in irritation and Stiles began to speak. “Hey. It’s me, Sti-” his voice cracked horrendously, “-les. Dad.”

_“Son? That’s you?”_

Stiles nodded and bit his lip even though he knew his father couldn’t see him. “Yeah. It’s me, Dad.”

 _“How are you? You’ve not talked to me at all since you’ve been gone, I’ve been worried.”_ Stiles could hear the strain and weariness in the Sheriff’s voice.

“Yeah, I’ve been good. How have you been? Have you been eating your vegetables?”

_“Of course I have. You know me, no cheating at all. I’ve been busy, but well. Son, have you really been all right?”_

“I’m fine, Dad… I just… I wanted to tell you.. I won’t be coming home for Christmas.”

_Tha-thump._

_Tha-thump._

_Tha-thump._

_“You’re… not?”_ The Sheriff sounded absolutely wrecked through the phone and it ripped at Stiles’ heart.

“No, Dad. I can’t. I’m sorry, I just… can’t,” he whispered, turning his face away from the phone and biting into his palm to keep himself from crying out. He twisted the cord of the phone around his fingertips and tugged at it.

 _“Oh.”_ There was so much misery and dejection in that one word that Stiles wanted to tell his dad that he’d lied, that he would be coming home, but he couldn't.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Dad.” The more he said ‘Dad,’ the farther he seemed to be. He couldn’t help but to try to claw onto that feeling of closeness and stay with him but it wasn't working.

_“Well. That’s okay… I still love you, son.”_

“I love you too,” Stiles choked out in a hurried whisper before slamming the phone down, effectively ending the call and allowing space for his tears. He buried his face in his hands and shook.

 

 

 


	19. Casting Such a Thin Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you, my loves!   
> Thank you for your support and for the reads. I adore you all and love to read and respond to your comments. You have such brilliant ideas and I love using ideas that you've come up with.   
> Thanks for helping me get to (gasp!) nearly 20,000 hits! Let's make it to 30,000 together   
> <3

Stiles stalked down the hallway, eyes red and swollen and head aching. He was still depressed from talking to his dad earlier that day, but he knew that he’d done the right thing. Christmas was only in a few weeks and he wanted to let his dad know sooner rather than later that he wouldn’t be coming home. He’d struggled quite a bit with that decision- that he wouldn’t be going home- but he finally determined that it was a decision he had to make. If he went home, he would have eradicated all of the past few months’ work. He would be aligning himself with the pack again, and he didn’t want to do that, he’d wanted to get away from them (thus the reason he left).

Stiles was pretty sure that if he returned home, he wouldn’t be able to leave again. Lydia’s magic was pretty strong, and it was chiefly his strong will and quick realization that had prevented him from returning to Beacon Hills in the fall (the massive amount of distance from Britain to California helped, too, but he was still sorely tempted).

He knew he couldn’t go back home.

He just couldn’t. It hurt him, and it hurt his dad, and he missed his dad and some of the others rather desperately, but.. he just couldn’t fall back into that again. He had finally grown to accept himself, to know who he was.. He could almost entirely control the powers granted to him by being a spriggan and… he needed to focus on his mage-test.

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he knew that the testing area was somewhere around here. He looked around and saw the room number-4100- and recognized it, realizing that he’d be testing in this room.

Stiles took a deep breath before placing his palms to the door and pushing it open, striding in and letting the door close behind him. He looked around him. The room which he had just entered was… completely empty. It was dimly lit by an unidentified light source and was devoid of furniture. under the impression that he had walked into the wrong room, he turned and tried to open the door, but it had been locked behind him. _Well either I’m royally fucked and am in the wrong place, or they just don’t want me leaving and I’m in the right place._

“Hello?” he called out, crossing to the center of the room.

The room suddenly plunged into darkness and a cataclysm of noise assailed Stiles’ ears before silence abounded, leaving a ringing in his ears. “What the fuck…” he breathed out softly. He edged his way forward, his hands in front of him. _I’ll just make my way to a wall and then find my way to the door… maybe someone will come in here soon and they can let me out._

After only a handful of steps, Stiles’ outstretched fingertips brushed a cold stone surface. he was momentarily excited before he came to the realization that he’d been in the center of a large room… he shouldn’t have reached a wall this quickly.

Stiles froze with a racing heart and wide, frightened eyes. He stepped forward a few more steps until he was flat against the wall. He reached up and couldn’t feel the top of the wall, even when he stretched on his toes and jumped. He edged to the left for a few moments and reached a sudden end in the wall. Stiles walked forward and bumped into another wall and froze.

_Fuck._

He grew frantic and began wandering, bumping into more walls and entering more passages before he was stopped by three walls on each side and the space he had just entered the box by.

_Fuck. I’m in a maze._

Stiles trembled, fingers pressed to the cold stone wall in front of him. he leaned his forehead against the wall, hoping the chill would wake his thought but it only caused tears to spring from his eyes. He stood there, pressed to the wall, cold seeping through his clothes into his body, for countless moments.

A skittering came from behind him and Stiles whirled around, blinking into the pressing blackness around him. It was starting to make him feel crazy, this overpowering darkness surrounding him. Had the noise actually come from beyond him, or had his brain created it to change his current never-ending never-changing landscape?

_I’m in a maze._

_I’m trapped in the dark, so dark, so dark, in a maze_

_neverending maze_

_so trapped I can’t breatheIcan’tbreathebreathe_

_I’m trapped_

_breathebreathe_

_fuck_

_FUCK!_

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat before beginning to beat rapidly. His breathing was erratic and he let out a little whimper. The skittering sound came again, much closer… claws on the floor, scraping… _It’s the bwca again!_

Stiles let out a little groan, actually literally completely _terrified_. He knew he was a cocky little shit and he pretended he wasn’t scared of anything but some things _definitely_ scared him and the bwca had been one of them. Was this is? Had it come back with a vengeance for its death?

A sound like a rusted metal door opening came and then a soft hsh, the sound of hundreds of tiny feet on the floor. What Stiles imagined to be a door slammed and the hsh of feet on the floor grew louder. Something crawled across his bare foot and he kicked it off only for it to be replaced by more, dozens of _things_ crawling across his feet, crawling up his bare legs- _bare legs, why are my legs bare? where did my clothes go? did I not come in wearing winter clothes?_

Stiles panicked as what he knew to be spiders (fuzzy stick legs sharp hurt pain) crawled across his skin, up his body, his bare flesh exposed to the cold air- _I’m not wearing clothes at all?_ \- and Stiles shut his eyes as one crawled across his face and he realized he was going to die and

_I’m not going to die! I’ve gone through way too goddamn much to die right now!_

The anger pierced through the haze that had enveloped him and he realized his situation didn’t make sense, it wasn’t real _. If any of this had actually occurred in real life, I would’ve turned… i’m fae, I can see in the dark for Christ’s sake. Why the fuck didn’t I think about that earlier?_

Stiles opened his eyes. “This is not real.” He realized that he didn't actually believe himself and that he needed to say it with conviction, he needed to prove to himself.

A spider crawled across his cheek and it’s leg hooked into his open mouth and he froze before repeating himself. “This is _not real_.” A bright light flashed before his closed eyes and the sensations threatening to overwhelm him disappeared. 


	20. Settle Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies.   
> It's been ages since I updated, but... here it is.   
> I know I say this often, but thank you so much for putting up with me and my erratic, spontaneous, completely unscheduled updates. Ack. Hopefully I'll get better at being more, uh, scheduled at this. And better, yeah. I think I shall be better at it, though, now that I'm FINALLY getting into the bit of the story that I'm truly interested in. (These upcoming chapters are the ENTIRE REASON why I started this story haha).   
> Anyway, thanks. You're all fantastic.

Stiles blinked his eyes open, dazed by the light that had washed over him, erasing the entirety of the nightmare he had been suffering. There was an open door directly to his left and he walked toward it, entering the room. The room was empty besides a chair and a large computer screen against the far wall, which...honestly was one of the last things he had expected. The screen blinked to life before turning black. A string of white letters danced across the screen.

_Sit down._

Stiles shrugged before sitting in the chair, which was quite comfortable. He relaxed fully and shackles sprang out of the arms and legs of the chair and wrapped around Stiles’ limbs, effectively trapping him.

“What the fuck?” Stiles freaked out, yanking his arms against the restraints. _This is why most magic users go crazy, because they’re forced to endure shit like this!_

 _Don’t panic_ , the screen said. _You passed the first test with flying colours. This is the second test, which will finalise your results. Now calm down._

Stiles reluctantly calmed himself, sitting still, but not relaxed. “What do I have to do, for this test?”

_Oh, nothing. You won’t even be awake for it._

“What?” Stiles looked around wildly but saw nothing. He felt a sharp pain in his left arm and looked down to see an incredibly long needle sliding into his skin. He looked up at the computer screen, feeling betrayed, and could’ve sworn that it was smiling at him as he slowly slid into unconsciousness. _Goddamn, I do this way too often!_

 

***

 

Stiles woke up in his bed with a pounding headache and an aching arm. Seth was leaning over his bed, looking concerned.

‘You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just peachy,” Stiles growled before attempting to sit up. Seth easily pushed Stiles back down.

“Nope, no moving. You’re resting right now. You’ve gone through rather a lot, so you need to rest.”

“Rather a lot? What _have_ I gone through?” Stiles asked angrily. “I wasn’t even aware of half the ordeal, so I would rather like to be told.”

“Ah. Well, basically the computer inserted a probe into your brain and read a bunch of your brain waves to determine your magical type. It came across a few errors and glitches, but it’s overall okay, I believe. I’m not entirely sure about the process that goes on behind that, because science isn’t my strong suit, but that’s what I know about that. The computer determined your type and then you were given a mark which stated that!” Seth finished with a big grin.

“Okay.... so what am I? And why is it a computer which figures out?” Stiles asked, slightly irritated by the older boy’s peppiness.

“You’re an incantor! Yay!” Seth honest-to-god said yay. "It's a computer because... well, technology is great. We used to have a mage sit and test and ask questions, but that was more problematic and caused more errors than a computer. So we use a computer now."

Stiles wanted to punch him for his happiness, but he was rather disappointed by the fact that he _wasn’t_ an erilaz. Stiles knew that it was rather cliché for a boy to suddenly discover magic and then become an amazingly great mage, but still. Harry Potter really drilled that desire into him.

“Wait, I get a wand??”

“Yeah, something like that. Or a staff, or a talisman. Whatever you want. You make it yourself, actually, and every incantor that I’ve spoken with has said that its something they just “feel.”

“That’s… okay, this is really freaking cool! I’m a wizard!” Stiles said, sitting straight up in bed.

“Lay back down! You’re healing!” Seth scolded Stiles, pushing him back down. “And you’re a mage, not a wizard.”

“Wait, so, what does my mark look like?” Stiles asked, excited.

“Erm…” Seth didn’t really say much and Stiles panicked. He hurriedly pushed his sleeve up his arm to examine the mark on his arm.

“What the hell, is this a brand??”

“It was the outer manifestation of your type.” Seth said gently, rubbing a soothing hand on Stiles’ forehead.

Stiles grumbled before examining the mark further. It was a stark black against his pale skin, burnt into his left forearm, right before the crook in his elbow. It was three teardrops melded together into a triskele and a solid black circle in the center. A sharp, thin triangular line poked out of the outside of each circle, elongating the triskele. It looked pretty badass. It also looked _nothing_ like any of the typical incantor marks that Stiles had ever seen.

“Why isn’t it normal?”

“Well… that would be caused by the glitches that I mentioned. It’s okay though, it’s fine. It’s just showing that you’re you,” Seth placated.

Stiles nodded slowly and let a happy smile spread across his face. “Thanks.”

 

 


	21. Filler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so... This isn't a real chapter. I'm sorry that this story has been on hiatus for so fucking long, it's been an awful time for me. Anyway, I truly do plan to kick this back in gear and finish the fucking thing, but. This is a plea for help. I a) would love a beta, and b) need help with some ideas! Therefore; chapter dump. I'm going to just put all of my ideas, sources, character outlines, etc in this chapter and if you want to read it and comment or help me beta, I would love that so fucking much. Thanks!

**Timeline:**

  * Stiles leaves for college early and the pack doesn’t notice because they’re all just like Isaac

  * Stiles does awesome stuff and gets sexy tats with runes and awesome stuff because he’s cool like that

  * He also travels the world and does BAMF activities

  * And nobody in the pack knows where he is

  * Then everybody dies

  * Except not really because Stiles saves them

  * And laughs at them

  * And Derek is all, “OHMIGOSH”

  * And Stiles is all, “HALE NO!”

  * And there’s some Stiles/OMC in there too

  * And maybe Stiles/OFC too

  * Also, there’s lots of battles

  * And blood and stuff.

  * Isaac feels bad

  * And so does Scott because he’s an awful best friend. Like, the worst.

  * Also, the evil pixies might be spriggans

  * <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pixie>

  * <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spriggan>

  * <http://lostgirl.wikia.com/wiki/Fae>




****  
  


Random Shit went on that I don't really understand.... D:

  * Stiles is all wtf after Seth tells him that Seth is an incubus

  * Stiles is worried about the fact that he’s sharing a room with an incubus when Seth has just informed him that fae-kind are the most susceptible to them

  * Stiles wonders why cold lady ie headmistress ravena referred to him as human

  * Stiles is confused about everything. particularly the whole troll girl thing (who i really need some from of name for) Do you want a troll-ier kind of name?I think there should be a troll-ier kinda name. Yes. LIke…

  * Stiles goes to at least one kickass class

  * Stles has defense class

  * Stiles is fantastic

  * Stiles is found out to be not human

  * Everyone calls stiles little wolf instead of stiles

  * Stiles schedule is changed because of all this kickasseryStiles decides to just fuck the world sometimes

  * Stiles decides that he kinda hates everyone

  * Stiles gets angry

  * All of the above happens because mr.sourwolf wrote letter telling him-demanding- him to come home

  * And stiles doesn’t do demands.




Stiles has kickass classes. NOT the astronomy ones and stuff: this needs to also happen later. Like, next chapter that i haven’t written yet later.

_

Creepy things that I need Stiles to maybe fight against at some point: (found all of these on a website)

  * toyols-reanimated corpses of aborted babies, essentially

  * skondhakatas-headless ghosts, usually part of train accidents




 

**Character Analyses and All that Good Stuff:**

so this fiction is based before season 3, but after all the shit has gone down with Kate and stuff. it’s obviously defs canon-divergent, and all that. Kate is still alive, and she may/may not come into play later. i’m not sure, chiefly because it’s super tropey to have her/Peter/Deucalion/Gerard, so i sorta want a different villainy person.

****  
  
  


Stiles- Okay, so Stiles is pretty much regular snarky, sarcastic, spastic, brave Stiles who is the research guinea pig. then, he comes across the spriggan and after turning, becomes much more hostile and angry. He’s also incredibly confused because he doesn’t quite know what’s going on and he can’t control himself in the way that he’s used to controlling himeself (because up to this point, he had ridiculously good self control and then it’s gone to shit because of the spriggan and the violence/anger it causes). At school, he has a major boner for Seth, but doesn't have any emotional feels for him. (Don't’ know what else to add for this). oh yeah, he’s head over heels for Derek and totally wants to please him, but he feels like Derek loathes him, so that makes Stiles want to leave even more (esp after he thinks that Derek kisses him just to manipulate him into staying)

Scott- Scott is completely and totally obsessed with Allison. i wanted to be a little bit tropey with this (kay, a lot bit) but Scott is definitely obsessed with her to the point of dickishness. He doesn’t mean to ignore Stiles, but he sort of just tunes him out and obsesses over Allison and his new job. He’s also still a little bit angry with Stiles because it’s technically Stiles’ fault that scott got bitten by Peter, and he doesn’t really appreciate it super much. So he’s harboring a little bit of upsetness with Stiles already, he’s obsessed with Allison, struggling to get his grades back up, and he’s trying to figure out what’s going on with Derek and the betas. I think in this fic, I want for Scott to decide to become Derek’s beta and to not become true alpha. i just really love Alpha!Derek.

Derek- Derek struggles with pushing Stiles away because he has no clue what the fuck he’s doing as an alpha and then here comes stiles, this beautiful underage boy with a knack for annoying the shit out of Derek. So Stiles makes Derek angry but then he saves Derek's’ life and gains both his trust and his sheer affection and devotion, which of course, Derek hates. Because he doesn’t want to deal with being in debt to anyone, especially Stiles. So he pushes him away and is pissy toward him and yells at him, but whenever Stiles is upset, he tries desperately to make Stiles feel better without showing that he actually cares. Also, whenever the rest of the pack is bitchy to Stiles, Derek turns a deaf ear to it because he doesn’t want to show favoritism, which he’s scared of doing (even though because of this, he’s being worse to Stiles). And Derek is struggling so hard to be a good alpha to his betas but it simply isn’t working because again, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. So he struggles and fails in this constant battle and then to top it all off, he has little PTSD flashback thingies of Kate all over BH. And then there’s Peter, who causes loads more problems because he’s an asshole creeper like that (even though i really love Peter at the same time so yeah)

Isaac- Isaac is superbly jealous of Stiles. he can see how much Derek cares about Stiles and that just makes him upset because although he’s not into Derek in a romantic way, he wants Derek to have all of his attention focuses on Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, and NOT on Stiles. So Isaac goes out of his way to make Stiles miserable, even though he doesn’t even dislike him. He’s just jealous and hopes that Stiles will back off, so he spends a lot of time trying to make Stiles feel unwanted and trying to make Scott like Isaac better (and it maybe works a little bit)

Erica- Erica is fond of Stiles, but knows that both Boyd and Isaac aren’t and so doesn’t want anything to happen to her as part of the pack because she befriends him. That’s essentially all that I have for her atm. She does try to help him in the end, though, when he’s fighting the bwca (and man, I totally jumped into that shit. Gotta fix that)

Boyd- Boyd is quiet, and head over heels for Erica. He doesn’t like Stiles because he thinks that he’s too noisy and spastic and talks to much and Stiles just gives Boyd a headache.

Jackson- Jackson is KING OF THE DOUCHEBAGS!!!! but he’s still there for Stiles when he needs him. He thinks Stiles is an annoying motherfucker, but… there’s a tiny part of him that’s fond of Stiles, so when Stiles needs the help, Jackson is (fairly) readily available.

Lydia- Lydia is smart and queen of the world, but Stiles doesn’t actually have feelings for her. Not anymore, anyway. Because Derek. She has a spark and stuff, too, which is much ‘bigger’ than Stiles (although that’s not actually true, Stiles’ was just lying dormant). Deaton chooses to apprentice her as his emissary and so later on, when shit goes wrong in Beacon Hills, Lydia struggles. she tries to get Stiles to come back with a compulsion spell, which doesn’t work. She ends up struggling for the next few years while Stiles is traveling and is relieved when he comes back. She hates feeling tied down to BH and wishes that she’d never agreed to become Deaton’s apprentice

Deaton- Deaton is still a bastard, but he’s a bit more open then he is in the show. Also he’s nice. But he’s still a bastard. he tells Stiles important things, He tries to help Stiles with his spriggan issue, but he mostly just wants Stiles out of BH.

Allison- (I might have her be the bad person? only because that might work just a bit with what I’ve set up so far, since everybody loves Allison and has forgiven her for her transgressions but Stiles is still all squeamish about her. I still haven’t figured out what exactly the shit going down is yet, though, so that’s why i don’t know if I’m going to use her in this role or not yet. I really really love Allison though, she’s one of my favourites). Allison loves Scott. (I love Allison tbh). Uhm yeah.

**Sources!**

Herbs!  

I don’t remember all the sources and stuff that I found, but here’s more.

<http://www.themagickalcat.com/Articles.asp?ID=242> this is one of my favourites, lists herbs and uses

<http://www.unc.edu/~reddeer/magick/herb.html> This is my second fave because it lists the herbs and their uses in shorthand and all that

<http://www.thewiccanway.org/herbs.html> lists which are poisonous, uses, etc

<http://www.witchipedia.com/herbs> this lists just herbs and their latin names

<http://www.earthwitchery.com/herbsa-g.html> this lists herbs and their deities and things

<http://www.spiritualspells.com/herbs-book.html> this tells you how to do some things and stuff

<http://wytchymystique.com/spells/command-compel-spells/> oils and stuff as well as other things for spells

Magic:

<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runic_magic> Rune magic, etc, very vague and basic  but still helpful

****

 


End file.
